


What It's Like to be Home

by Onlymystory



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Dysfunctional Family, M/M, Miscommunication, No one knows how to use their words, Team as Family, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymystory/pseuds/Onlymystory
Summary: Bobby warned Buck that he might regret coming back to the 118 after his lawsuit. He was right. Buck regrets it every day as his team grows further away from him and the loneliness takes over.But somewhere along the way, he learns to face the demons within. More importantly, he learns that once you’ve picked your family, you don’t get to give up on them and as it turns out, they won’t give up on you.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 61
Kudos: 329





	1. 100 Days of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you are here and thinking this seems awfully familiar (or because you were subscribed to the older version and got the update), it does! This is the new and hopefully improved version of this story. For the why, see the next paragraph. If you’re brand new to this story, the last two paragraphs in this author’s note has any additional warnings/etc you may need. Title is from a McFly song and all chapter titles are twists on Gabriel Garcia Marquez works.
> 
> Why change? Honestly, the simplest reason is I was frustrated by the fic as it was. I set out to write one story and I ran into three issues. I kept thinking I had to update the characters to match who they are now in the show, forgetting that I was deliberately writing a version where the hurt of a few lines doesn’t get resolved, it gets worse. So that threw me for a loop in writing. The second was in an attempt to get something out to all of you reading, I rushed chapters. I broke up the story in places that I didn’t mean to, so many of you were left with questions or concerns that didn’t need to exist and I was left feeling pressured to address those rather than continue with the story. And lastly, there were some definite elements that in my head, I’d perfectly and logically thought through several characters actions and reactions. But I didn’t get that on paper very well and I suspect more than a few of you were concerned about what read as some insensitivities in the writing.  
> And I just kept getting frustrated at the story and myself and wondering if I should stop writing it, except I really, really like this idea. I like a lot of what I’ve done with this. So I decided instead of trying to recorrect over and over, I was just going to scrap the old and repost, making some much needed adjustments and writing the story I intended all along.
> 
> Warnings: This is a story that jumps off roughly post-Rage, though with a few liberties taken from about the tsunami point on. It is dealing with Buck’s trauma from that and before. I have always headcanoned Buck as coming from an abusive household (and despite the ignorance of the writers and their idiotic ideas that it’s only abuse if it’s physical), that is a factor here. It is NOT, however, an overly large factor. In this first chapter however, Buck’s trauma-addled mind makes a call that could read as suicidal idealization. This is not the approach I am going with and it is addressed that this was not his frame of mind. I did not tag for it because that’s not the motivation, but I am warning that it could be read that way.  
> Lastly, my intent of this story was always to whump on Buck a bit and then heal him and the others. I live for found family. The goal is to bring them back together stronger than ever.

“You won’t regret this,” promises Buck.

“You might,” says Bobby.

Buck does. He regrets nearly every moment.

* * *

The voice whispers at night and screams in the day. “We all have our own problems. But you don’t see us whining about it. We just manage to suck it up. Why can’t you?”

Eddie may be the one who actually says it, but Buck can tell the others want to. 

Every so often, another voice grumbles from the back of his mind, pushing through the guilt and blame the other voices bring.  _ I didn’t tell the lawyer all of those things. I said I hated that others got to come back after suffering loss or injuries and be straight back on the job. I hate not being able to help people. Not being allowed in the same building as my family.  _ It’s a bitter little voice. Says  _ the attorney saw an opportunity. All of that information is public knowledge. Shannon’s death. Hen’s previous career path. Chimney’s injuries. Bobby’s history. It’s ugly and it’s personal and he hated the brutal way the lawyer went about it but he. didn’t. tell. him. anything.  _

“You’re not ready.”

“I thought you were my friend. I thought you were on my side.”

“I am your friend.”

But Bobby’s not on his side. He makes that clear. He has to protect other people. 

“I have a responsibility to others. An injured team member creates an added burden.” 

Can’t have Buck being a weight on others. 

“We just manage to suck it up. Why can’t you?”

He can. He won’t be a burden. 

He’ll be better. 

Be all you can be. 

Hooyah and all that shit the SEALS engrained in his memory before...before.

* * *

The voices aren’t really the problem. It’s the sounds. 

90% of the people in the firehouse play video games in their downtime. He should be used to the sounds of explosions by now. 

He learns how to hide the flinches. 

Suck it up. 

Pulls victims and others in need out of the water. Out of lakes and pools and oceans. Turns the hose at the fire and stays steady in the face of the blast. 

At night his body seizes up, lies frozen as the water rushes over and over and over. 

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t…

He breathes. 

The voices come back.

Rinse and repeat. Same song, second verse. 

A little bit louder and a whole lot worse.

* * *

Eddie doesn’t talk to him these days. “That’s not really your concern,” was what he said when Buck asked about him and Christopher and the words stick in Buck’s throat as they stab at his heart.

It’s not like he didn’t know Eddie didn’t really, couldn’t really mean the words that day so soon after the tsunami. Trust Buck? With his son? After Buck lost him in the waters of a tsunami, where things could have ended up being so much worse? 

At first, Buck wanted so desperately to believe it. To believe he hadn’t fucked up again. That Eddie trusted him and that Bobby saw he could still save people and he could do this, he could be the guy they all used to believe in. He was going to prove he was still the same Buck until he started to realize that maybe it wasn’t this version of him that Bobby doesn’t like. Maybe it’s every version and this was just the excuse they needed to push him aside.

But the lawsuit happened. And Buck knows he fucked up there. Not in filing it, no. He deserved a chance at a conversation, to be treated like an adult, not told what would happen like he’s a child. There are moments he absolutely regrets even meeting with that lawyer. But there are a lot more moments that he doesn’t regret his decision at all. When his brain points out that he still deserved his job to be there. 

He shouldn’t have needed a lawsuit to know if he was going to live his dream. 

He earned being a firefighter and he’s a damn good one. 

He went through months of surgery and rehab because some kid tried to kill Bobby. He came back stronger than before.

And yeah, his body wasn’t ready and he should have listened, but all of those months and they ran with substitutes and overtime fill-ins from the station. Nearly get killed in a freak tsunami? That’s enough to get his name covered up and his replacement brought in. 

Never mind that he actually kind of thinks Lena’s awesome. It’s the principle of the thing. 

Anyway, his point was that with Eddie at least, Buck messed up. He should have told Eddie in person too. It wouldn’t have changed anything about the suit itself, but maybe he wouldn’t feel like he was always one wrong word away from earning Eddie’s coldest glare and cutting words.

He could have had a moment, a brief chance to explain to Eddie why he was doing this and maybe he’d still have his best friend around.

Instead, he has silence and a bitter chill in the air and everything hurts.

* * *

There are still good moments. It almost makes it worse. 

He joined a support group after the tsunami. Sort of. Probably more of a drinking group than anything else, but it helps. It’s just other firefighters who got caught in the tsunami’s path, rather than just working the aftermath. Sometimes you can’t talk about things at work, with people who don’t get the trauma, but talking to an outsider is just as difficult because they don’t understand the job. 

“I can’t believe I actually thought Diaz seemed like a decent guy,” says Lena, taking her turn over the pool table. They always play a three-man game. For one, it’s shorter, but also Lena doesn’t lose. Ever. So it allows more of them to rotate through. 

Buck frowns. “Eddie’s a great guy.”

“Your vote doesn’t count,” throws in Captain Cooper, adding a groan as Lena sinks yet another ball. 

“I know him better than any of you,” retorts Buck. Eddie’s voice is the most brutal one that echoes in his mind, night after night, but it’s still Eddie’s voice. He doesn’t get to hear it outside of work communication these days. 

Sal passes him a fresh beer. “Yes, but you’re in love with him and therefore your opinion doesn’t count.”

“I’m not in love with Eddie,” protests Buck and regrets it instantly. They all know the truth of how he feels and after several occasions of the others calling him out for doth protesting too much, the rule is now that he buys a round of shots if he tries to lie about it. He flags down the waiter and turns back to the pool game. “You’re all assholes.”

“Mmm, but not the asshole you want,” singsongs Lena. 

Buck, Sal, and Cooper all groan at that one.

“In all seriousness, Buck, how is everything at the 118?” asks Captain Cooper. 

For a while, Cooper and Lena kept asking him if he wanted to transfer to the 136, said they would be happy to make space for him. Buck turned them down each time. There was a part of the idea that sounded amazing. To be somewhere that he felt he belonged, a place he felt wanted. It wouldn’t even be giving up. His lawsuit was about being reinstated as a firefighter with the LAFD; he just can’t bring himself to leave the 118. So now they just ask about Buck’s situation, with the invitation open.

Buck shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” questions Lena, eyebrow raised.

“It’s...it’s getting there,” answers Buck. “I’m just trying to keep my head down and prove I belong.”

“You do belong,” the others say firmly. 

“I know. It’s okay, really. It’ll just take time.” He doesn’t mention the way he came up last week for family dinner and there wasn’t a chair for him. Sure he still sat on the couch and was in the room with everyone, but he got the message. You’re not part of the family. Not anymore.

This week he didn’t even bother going upstairs, just ordered delivery, and sat downstairs to eat before another round of chores. 

No one said anything to him. If they noticed he was missing, they definitely didn’t miss  _ him _ .

He won’t say that tonight though. He’s learning, he wants to tell Eddie. He can suck it up and deal too.

Cooper’s saying something and Buck shakes his thoughts away, refocuses on the conversation. Gets back in the game.

These are his people.

They just aren’t his family.

* * *

As time goes on, he fades to the background of the 118. He’s never stuck at the firehouse, gets his full privileges back. But his shifts get shuffled around until he rarely works with the people he once called family. For a minute there he sees Chimney a little more since Maddie’s still dating him, but then she stops inviting him to do stuff with the two of them, keeps the visits to just her. Even though those fade away, as time goes on since boyfriends tend to take a higher priority.

Buck can’t exactly fault Maddie for that. 

He gets to see Christopher at least. The bright, beautiful light in his week. He babysits after school twice a week on Eddie’s shifts. 

Buck would be bummed about missing working together, but they don’t really get to do that anymore anyway.

* * *

“Buck? Why don’t we have family dinners anymore?” asks Christopher around a mouthful of homemade pizza. 

Fuck. There’s a loaded question. He can’t exactly say because I fucked up and your dad doesn’t trust me and it’s kind of breaking my heart because I think he might be the love of my life but I nearly got you killed and then I didn’t talk to him about the shit I was dealing with and then I filed a lawsuit that banned me from talking to him when he needed me so now he hates me.

“We’ve just been busy,” he answers instead.

“Not too busy for me?” asks Christopher.

Buck leans over and hugs him. “Never too busy for you. We just have a lot at work right now.”

Chris seems to accept the answer as it is, turning back to his pizza and switching the subject to his history project for school.

* * *

When Eddie knocks at the door, Buck’s thrown. Usually Eddie texts first, so he doesn’t have to talk to Buck for very long. Buck opens the door and lets Eddie in with a quiet hello, then passes Christopher his shoes and jacket.

As he’s getting his shoes on, Christopher asks Eddie the same question from earlier. “Can we have dinner with Buck this weekend? It’s been forever. And go to the zoo?”

Buck tries to busy himself with gathering up Chris’s toys, but he definitely doesn’t miss the awkward glances that Eddie throws his way. He just waits to hear what excuse Eddie will come up with. It’s not like anything coming out will be remotely close to the truth. Who’s going to admit to Christopher that Buck watches him some days because Eddie and Buck don’t work together anymore? That Buck doesn’t get to work with any of them. 

He doesn’t expect that Eddie will acknowledge that despite his words just after the tsunami, he doesn’t really trust Buck. Not with his kid. Not anymore. 

“I uh, think Buck and I are working this weekend. He picked up some overtime, right Buck?” answers Eddie, the “help me convince Christopher that everything’s normal” evident in his voice. 

Buck doesn’t want to help him with a damn thing, but it’s Christopher, and he’s not about to disappoint his favorite kid. And well, if he’s getting real fucking honest with himself, he’s still willing to do just about anything in the hopes that Eddie won’t be disappointed in him. So he answers with a “Yeah, I’m working buddy,” and hopes that’s enough. 

Christopher doesn’t really look like he buys it, and why would he? The change is noticeable from the days when Eddie and Buck practically lived out of each other’s pockets. First Buck caused it with those weeks of the lawsuit and since then they’ve just stayed apart. 

“But soon, yeah?” he adds, trying to soothe Christopher’s feelings. Chris beams at him and Buck aches at the way he knows he’ll eventually have to let him down when it doesn’t happen. For now, Buck rolls with Christopher’s smile and passes him his backpack.

“Thanks for watching him,” says Eddie, his gaze flickering everywhere but Buck’s eyes. 

“I’m always down to spend time with my favorite nine-year-old,” says Buck, smiling at Christopher. 

“Love you, Bucky,” says Chris.

Buck grins, his heart eternally warmed. “Love you too.”

“I can find someone to supplement Carla’s availability if it’s too much,” says Eddie. 

“Nah,” says Buck, shaking his head. “I like having Christopher around.” Then he thinks about it. The suggestion probably wasn’t about what Buck wants, but Eddie not wanting to leave Chris with Buck any more than necessary. Though Buck does everything he can to make sure nothing can go wrong. It’s why his apartment has become stocked with a number of books, video games, and a ridiculous amount of LEGOS, so there’s no reason to venture out anywhere and risk anything. “As long as it’s okay with you,” he amends, doing his best to convey how much he appreciates being trusted.”

“One less problem to worry about,” replies Eddie, walking away from the door and following Christopher.

Right. Because Buck’s been one of the problems. He shoves the door closed in a hurry, making his very best effort to keep the tears at bay. He just has to keep being better, stop being a burden, be the guy who isn’t a problem. 

He can do that.

He can.

He’ll keep trying. He has to.

* * *

Hen had his back for a while. Actually, if Buck’s being fair, she probably still does. Her only comment about the lawsuit was that she wished it hadn’t gone that far, but he raised some good points, and she knew what it was like to fight for the job you love.

Those early weeks, when Buck still worked the same shift as his former crew, Hen would make sure there was space for him. He suspects she may have said something to Bobby. 

But nothing changed.

And Buck knows that Hen and Karen are dealing with a lot these days.

Sometimes he wants to text her, to tell her about all the shit that she doesn’t see anymore, all the things she would usually catch, that slip past because of her own issues.

Then the voice pipes up again. Asks if he really wants to keep being a burden, to add his problems on. It’ll be too much, the voice reminds him. Do you really want to be a burden to Hen as well? She doesn’t deserve that. No one deserves the burden of you.

* * *

Maddie’s still there for him. His one other constant in the midst of everything. At least his sister isn’t leaving him again.

And yet, for all that she tries to be there for him, it never really helps. Buck knows she’s not against him, knows she understands why he filed the lawsuit. She’s acknowledged more than once that pushing Buck out wasn’t okay and that others have been allowed back after major injuries or traumas under completely different rules than the ones Buck’s been subjected to.

But she’s also with Chimney. 

Chim...who hasn’t shown much animosity towards Buck, just a little bit of teasing that stopped pretty quickly, has still chosen to follow Bobby’s lead, just like the rest of them. 

Buck is very, very glad that Maddie’s happy. And he doesn’t want to ruin that for her or force her to choose between her brother and her boyfriend. So they spend less time together. She calls and texts and shares silly pics and it’s a lifeline that he clings to. He just doesn’t get to see her as much. 

But it’s okay, he tells himself. This is Buck not being a burden.

* * *

It’s been a couple of years now, but Buck’s reminded of something Bobby said during his early days at the 118. “This isn’t a family.”

He’s always thought of that as Bobby’s frustration at Buck 1.0, at the pre-Abby Buck, the pre-Eddie Buck (well, not that that ever happened in the same way, but he thinks of Buck 3.0 as being the guy who fell in love with Eddie Diaz), at the guy who didn’t care about his team. 

But maybe Buck should have taken the words at face value. 

Bobby always said this wasn’t his family. 

Buck hadn’t learned the lesson then. 

He knew it now. 


	2. Chronicle of a Death Withheld

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The suicidal idealization/but not really a warning from the beginning comes into play in this chapter. See endnotes for a more specific warning.   
> Also, a tiny reminder that Buck is making very deliberate choices right now to hide his pain. Yes, there are mistakes being made and people at fault for pushing him away. And yes, someone should be able to see how much he’s screaming for help. But remember that not only is Buck not asking for help, he’s working very hard to make sure no one knows he needs it.

The rarity of thunderstorms in the Los Angeles area means accidents and emergency calls go up drastically. With the week of non-stop rain, every firehouse is stretched thin. Opportunities for overtime have become mandatory overtime. 

For the first time in months, Buck’s back to working alongside his old team. It’s hard to find a way to be in sync with anyone but Hen, who may not work with him anymore, but still texts back and forth. Hen never acts any differently around Buck, still every bit as caring. But she’s preoccupied a lot these days and Buck is always trying not to add to her burdens. He doesn’t want to give her a reason to ask him to back off.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d gotten used to working with the B shift crew until today. The absence has always been felt, but now, working with her and the others, that distance feels like it’s screaming across the void. 

Hen and Chimney are as in sync as ever. Max, the firefighter who was transferred in to fill Buck’s shifts seems to fit well with the team. Though Buck takes a tiny amount of gleeful pride in the way Max and Eddie have to ask each other for what they need. Buck and Eddie worked on another level, sensing what the other needed before anything had to be said. 

And yet, that tiny nugget of emotion holds little weight. 

Olivia’s the other from his new crew working the overtime shift with him, and Bobby barks orders so fast, even she’s not around enough to be of any comfort. 

Even after all this time, he’s still not wanted. Bobby assigns him to tasks away from the rest of them. Over and over again, Buck’s sent away. 

He voices a small protest once, thinking he’d be more helpful in the extraction of a family from a half-submerged car, but Bobby just makes a noise that Buck translates as exasperated, and Buck quickly shuts up again. 

He’s not supposed to be a burden.

* * *

When they finally break to head back to the station, Buck’s exhausted, both physically and emotionally. 

It hurts being on a different team, but at least on his regular shifts, he doesn’t have to wonder if he’s upsetting someone. If he’s letting his emotions become a burden on others. Today it feels like he’s tip-toeing on eggshells, hoping he doesn’t slip up somewhere and finally reach the point where Bobby tells him it’s too much, tells him he’s never coming back to his family. Trying desperately not to look at Eddie with unadulterated need, begging for a conversation beyond cursory words. 

There are only a couple of hours left in the shift, short enough that between the cleaning and restocking of the equipment, their team will be unlikely to get called out again. Then Buck can go home and sleep and try to forget this horrible day. 

But of course, life never does work in his favor. They get rerouted on the way back due to another accident, one that already has another first responder team on site. As they come up the slippery road to the bridge, they can see the problem instantly. A semi-truck going too fast had jackknifed, both trailer units swinging out into traffic and causing a massive crash scene. 

They’re all working through the triage as best they can, the day quickly getting so much worse. They can’t get to everyone. Worse, at least for Buck, there are some they can’t even attempt to reach in the dark and stormy waters below them. 

He’s pretty sure the worst moment was when he, Olivia, and Chimney had just managed to stabilize a young mother who was thrown from her car into the median. She’d been slipping in and out of consciousness but came to just long enough to ask about her family. As per protocol, they promised to find out but that she needed to get to the hospital.

But when Buck had turned to look for the car that fit her description, there was nothing. Nothing but a broken railing and the scrapes of paint and tire skids. 

They’d learn later it was one of three cars that landed in the river. There’d be only one survivor out of all the people who landed in the river that night. 

It took everything in him to steel himself enough to go back to working the scene. Buck could tell he wasn’t the only one struggling. 

Through it all, the never-ending roar of the water rushed at him again and again, spinning in a whirl of accusations and disappointment, punctuated by the judging eyes he could feel from Bobby and Eddie at every turn. 

So when he sees another woman clinging desperately to the outer edge of the bridge, every moment that much closer to the one where she loses her grip and falls, he doesn’t hesitate to help. He doesn’t want to lose any more lives tonight.

* * *

The woman’s teetering on the edge of the bridge and Buck can tell, he just knows, she doesn’t have long. The landing she’s on is too far out for them to reach from the railing, so he starts strapping on equipment, attaches a rope to himself, and gets ready to climb. 

“I can reach her, sir,” he says. “Bring her back over the edge.”

“Sure,” replies Bobby, his voice weary. He’s not really paying attention to the woman Buck wants to save, focused on the victim in front of him and Olivia. 

The crash has claimed more than its share of victims on the bridge tonight. This poor woman who got flung from her car is barely hanging on. She might not last if they wait for better equipment or more first responders. 

Once upon a time, long long ago, Bobby would have asked Buck if he was sure. Would’ve looked for another way. Something a little less dangerous. Buck would have had to push to attempt a dangerous rescue. Had to argue for it. Now, he doesn’t even merit a second thought.

There’s a flicker of something from Eddie’s direction and Buck wishes Eddie would say something, anything, to say he still cares. The moment passes as Eddie looks away and mutters something to Chimney.

So Buck goes. He climbs up the ironwork of the bridge and makes his way cautiously to the landing. The woman is crying but she’s holding on for dear life. He carefully makes his way to her.

The water below them is so loud. It roars and roars and roars in his ears.

He gets the rescue equipment attached to her, holds himself steady as she’s pulled in, climbing back the way he came. 

“Ready?” asks Buck on his radio. “More people to help, right sir?” He tries his best to force his former cheer into his words.

The water roars and he pushes it down, pushes it away. 

“Give us a minute,” snaps Bobby.

“Always so eager,” comes Chimney’s voice. He sounds like he’s teasing. If things were different, Buck might wonder if there’s a touch of fondness in Chimney’s tone. But the voice is louder and instead, it just reminds him that he’s fucking up again.

And oh. Right. He’s supposed to be patient. He’s out here because he was the easiest to risk. There are victims to care for. 

Suck it up, Buck.

Everyone else does. 

He waits. 

The water roars. It roars and it roars and it roars.

Buck can see it beneath him. The water’s dark and turbulent and it’s so loud in his head. It’s all he can hear. He should have let the water take him all those months ago. Should have stopped fighting against the waves. 

It would be quiet again. 

Maybe he should listen to the water. Let it drown out the voices that never leave him alone. Maybe that’s why he always hears it because he was supposed to listen. Maybe if he stops fighting it, just for a moment, he’ll be able to breathe again. 

The water roars. It’s louder now. 

“It’s too loud. Always so loud.”

He can’t hear the voices. 

“I don’t want to be the burden anymore,” he whispers. 

His radio crackles, the comm button somehow stuck in the on position, and Bobby looks up, concerned.

Buck unhooks the rope from his waist, holds onto the railing with one hand. The water roars.

Eddie and Hen’s eyes snap up as one as the rope strung out in front of them goes slack.

“BUCK!!!!!!!” screams Hen.

The bridge goes silent behind Buck as every first responder there looks up in curiosity, in fear, in horror. 

Eddie runs. Bobby runs. 

The water roars.

Buck lets go.

He falls.

And finally, finally, it’s quiet again.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of machines beeping, the sterile smell of a hospital room, and the soft weight of his sister’s head resting against his side. Every part of his body hurts. He’s willing to bet he has some heavy-duty bruises littering his body, on top of whatever other internal injuries the fall gave him. Buck does his best to keep still and quiet for a moment, trying not to wake Maddie before he has a chance to process.

Though in reality, he’ll have a fair amount of time to think. Technically the 72-hour hold that people are familiar with isn’t a mandatory thing. But it is used regularly and he can’t imagine that his doctor, whoever they are, and Maddie will let him leave the hospital early. 

And maybe it’s a good thing, considers Buck. He wasn’t trying to end his life. He didn’t want to die, he just wanted everything to be quiet, to be still, to stop tossing and turning in his mind every damn minute. But clearly, his trauma has caught up with him and been messing with his mind more than he realized. To the point that shutting off the noise and disapproval in his head meant deliberately falling off a bridge in a massive storm. 

These last few months, these attempts to be good enough...they aren’t working. He needs something that will.

Maddie stirs and looks up at him, her face that of someone who doesn’t think he’s come to yet, resignation so clear. In a matter of seconds, she goes from elated to bursting into tears, to looking like she wants to throttle Buck. “Evan!” she cries finally, her hands moving everywhere like she’s reassuring herself that he’s there. 

He reaches his arms out to pull her in, grateful yet again that she moved to California. Buck’s own eyes fill with tears as they both try to find the right words. Maddie manages words first. “Evan. What happened? Why would you think this...think suicide is the answer?”

“I didn’t,” he answers.

Maddie gives him an incredulous look. Fair, considering why he’s here.

“I mean it, Maddie,” Buck says again. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I just wanted everything to be quiet for a while and it was a rough shift and…”

“Buck, you don’t let yourself fall from a bridge because you need quiet,” interrupts Maddie softly. 

Before he can answer, there’s a knock at the door, then Bobby pokes his head in, looking at Maddie. Then his eyes lock on Buck’s and Bobby takes a step forward.

“Get out,” says Buck, his voice a bit hoarse at trying to talk at a normal volume, rather than the quiet words he and Maddie have exchanged. 

“Buck,” protests Bobby.

“Evan?” questions Maddie.

“I said get out,” he repeats.

“Just talk to me for a few minutes,” pushes Bobby. “Please Buck.”

Buck snarls. “GET OUT!!!” he screams before succumbing to a coughing fit. Nearly drowning doesn’t make yelling easy.

Maddie presses the call button for the nurse and then turns to Bobby, her eyes cold. “Whatever is going on here, it clearly won’t get resolved in the next few minutes. You need to leave, Bobby. I’ll let you know when Buck’s ready to talk to you.”

Never, thinks Buck in between coughs. He never wants to see Bobby Nash again.

* * *

It’s probably an hour or so of the doctors checking in on him and getting him his updated medications. 

He’s badly bruised as he suspected and required to stay on oxygen for the rest of the day and possibly into the night. It doesn’t appear that he has any brain injuries from his near-drowning. For the most part, he’s physically doing better than he should be. One nurse attributes that to how fast his fellow firefighter dove in after him, nearly drowning himself. Buck doesn’t ask, but Maddie quietly volunteers the information. Eddie’s the one who reacted so quickly. And so emotionally. 

Trying to make sense of Eddie caring that much sends pangs through Buck’s heart, so he shoves the information into a tiny corner of his brain, not ready to assess why Eddie would care about him, about a disappointment.

When the doctors and nurses are finally done and he's left alone in his room, Maddie looks at him incredulously. “What the hell is going on, Evan? Why do you want nothing to do with Bobby? Why haven't you asked me to get Eddie over here? I would have expected you to want him to be here more than me more than anyone. Why does the rest of your team seem so surprised that you have been having a hard time?”

Buck takes a breath. Why Maddie is asking this now when she’s been ignoring it for months is beyond him. Except. Wait. 

If Maddie’s asking, does that mean she doesn’t know about everything that’s been going on?

“Maddie,” he begins, unsure if he’s asking or telling her, “I don’t work with my old team anymore.”

“What do you mean? You said you’re still at the 118,” she replies with a growing frown on her lips. 

“I am at the 118,” answers Buck. “But Bobby switched me to the opposite shifts as the rest of them within my first week back. I see Hen once every couple of weeks and the others at shift change. They don’t talk to me.” 

He gauges Maddie’s reaction. “You really didn’t know?”

“How would I know, Evan?! You didn’t tell me.”

“I thought Chimney did,” says Buck. He shrugs and winces at the movement. “I just figured that was why you didn’t want to hang out in person anymore.”

Maddie’s eyes fill with tears. “It seemed like you were always working. Or if Chimney was going to be there, you begged off saying you didn’t want to interrupt date night. And I thought...well, that part of what I thought doesn’t matter. Evan, I promise you, I didn’t know. I would never have let you stay away so long if I knew.”

She looks absolutely infuriated too, in a way that Buck knows means Chim and the rest are likely to get an earful. Fine with him. Just as long as he doesn’t have to be around for it.

* * *

The conversation with his assigned psychiatrist is a tough one. He has a hard time trusting therapists of any sort, even if he knows that woman wasn’t deserving of the license. She’s unfortunately not the only one who tried to cross that professional line. Gender doesn’t seem to make a difference.

But this one seems genuinely concerned, so Buck talks. Shares enough information to figure out what’s next. 

He doesn’t want to die. It terrifies him that he got so close to letting his mind convince himself that’s the answer, whatever twisted way it came about. 

And with everyone here, all these people who don’t need him, who don’t want him, it seems like LA is too toxic.

He needs a reset.

* * *

“So you want to leave Los Angeles?” clarifies Maddie when Buck explains.

She, Sal, and Lena are in Buck’s room, kicking his ass at SORRY!--a game he honestly didn’t think takes this much strategy--and he just let them know about his plans. 

“Yeah.”

“Where to?” asks Sal.

“I’m not really sure yet. I still want to be a firefighter, so I guess finding a crew with an opening is the first start.”

Lena draws a card, splits her move between two tokens, and sends one of his and one of Sal’s back to start.

“I hate you,” says Sal.

Buck fist bumps him in solidarity.

“You both love me, don’t even,” retorts Lena. “On a serious note though, I know Captain Cooper would find a spot for you at the 136, Buck.”

“I appreciate that. And I’m sure you’re right. But talking with the hospital psychiatrist just really made me realize that I need to step out of this environment completely. These last several months have just become worse. I don’t want the next to end with Maddie identifying my body.” He squeezes Maddie’s hand when her eyes fill with tears. “I just...I think I have more to deal with than just what’s going on with the 118.”

Maddie looks confused but doesn’t push. Sal pats Buck’s leg and takes his turn. 

Lena’s the one who catches his eye, giving him an almost imperceptible nod. She gets it because they’ve had some tougher conversations over the last few months. Maddie and Buck didn’t grow up in the same house. Maddie grew up with a mother who was alive. Then she moved out at 18 and their mother died and Buck’s eight-year-old world became so much darker.

Someday he probably has to talk to Maddie about some of that. But not today. Today, he can know that one of his closest friends understands and let that be enough. 

“What can we do?” asks Sal. 

“Help me find somewhere to go,” answers Buck. “Somewhere warm preferably. I don’t do real well in the snow.”

The others laugh and agree. They switch from board games to research as soon as Lena finishes destroying all of them at SORRY!, searching job boards and sending out feelers to as many contacts as possible. 

When the nurse comes by on rounds and kicks them all out, Buck is feeling a little bit better. They’ll find somewhere for him to go, somewhere he can make his team proud, somewhere he won’t have to be a burden anymore.

* * *

Lena’s the one who comes through with a solution by the last morning of his hold. 

“Texas?” questions Buck.

“Texas,” confirms Lena. “Austin, specifically. A friend transferred there from her old crew in Miami. She said this captain has a thing for collecting strays and they’ve built a pretty great crew.”

“Does she think her Captain will take me on?” It’s all well and good if there’s a spot, but it’s no use if they don’t. Buck doesn’t want to get her hopes up. 

“I already talked to him,” says Captain Cooper. “It seems his son’s recovering from an accidental gunshot wound and they’ve still got a probie on the team. They’re a man down.”

“What about when his son heals?” asks Buck. He doesn’t need to get somewhere for a few weeks and then have the rug ripped out from under him. This move is about his healing. He can’t imagine instability will help that. 

Coop’s smile twitches, the way it usually does when one of them asks a question he’s already found an answer to. He is a captain after all, as well as a friend. “Captain Strand agreed to a year. I told him a little of what you’ve been dealing with, at least as much as I knew about.” He gives Buck a stern look that makes Buck quail a bit. None of his little survivors' club was happy with his ongoing silence.

“Anyway, Strand said he’d guarantee a place for you for a year. He seemed pretty understanding of the need for stability. After that you can reassess,” finishes Captain Cooper.

Lena frowns. “What if Buck’s ready to come home before then?”

It’s a good point, thinks Buck.

It seems Cooper thought of that too. “Captain Strand asked for a six-month commitment from you, with at least two weeks notice when you do choose to leave. That covers through their rookie’s testing with a little wiggle room to replace if need be.”

“Thank you,” says Buck. “I mean it. Really.”

“I expect you to stay in touch, asshole,” says Lena.

“Like an adult. Not a text every three weeks,” specifies Sal. 

Buck laughs, which hurts, but he nods anyway. “SEALs honor,” he says with a grin that feels like a shadow of his old self. But since even the shadow’s been missing for a long time, this feels promising. 

For the first time in a long time, he has hope.

* * *

“Why do you have to leave, Buck?” asks Christopher, his eyes already filling with tears.

“Because I’m sick, bud, and I need to go somewhere I can get better,” says Buck, pulling Christopher in close. Buck knows he’s cheating a little bit by talking to Christopher in the morning before school, on a night that Pepa will have him because of Eddie’s work schedule, which means he can disappear before Chris has a chance to ask his dad why Buck is sick or tell him that Buck’s leaving. Buck already knows he’s a disappointment and a burden to Eddie, he doesn’t need to see it in Eddie’s eyes too. 

Buck had asked Maddie to sort it out. Eddie knows that Carla and Christopher were stopping by. He wasn’t going to sneak that part around, that’d be super shitty of him to essentially take Christopher somewhere Eddie didn’t know about. He’d just insisted that Eddie not be there, preferably not at the hospital if they could swing it. Whatever Maddie had said worked and Carla had brought Christopher in for an hour visit and a shared breakfast before he had to go to school. 

“Can’t the doctors help you?” Chris wrinkles his nose at Buck’s hospital bed. There’s not really much evidence in the idea that Buck is still injured. Which makes sense, since other than a few lingering bruises, he’s not physically injured. He’s only been at the hospital longer for the psychiatric hold. 

“It’s more of a sickness with my brain,” answers Buck. “My thoughts haven’t been good lately and I need to talk to someone about them. So I don’t get hurt again.”

“Like how Mom was sick?”

“Um…”

“I found the letter she wrote me before she died,” says Christopher. “I don’t think Dad wanted me to read it so I didn’t tell him, but she wrote ‘Dear Christopher’ so I thought I could.” The tears are coming on strong now and Buck swipes at a few of his own.

There’s a whole lot to unpack in those couple of sentences, but Buck also knows that even if he and Eddie were as close as they used to be, it still wouldn’t be his place to get into this. But he also doesn’t want Christopher to leave him thinking Buck’s going to die too. So he does his best.

“Your mom and I both had some stuff in our heads that made us sick,” he begins. “And I think, for a long time, she didn’t know that she did. And she didn’t have the friends that I do. But she did want to get help so she wouldn’t keep leaving you. So you could count on her.” He knows that if Shannon hadn’t died tragically, that second time leaving would have been the last time she saw Christopher until he was of an age to make that decision for himself. Eddie and Buck had talked for a while about that. Eddie was glad Shannon had wanted to get better, to deal with her depression, but he didn’t want Christopher to keep getting hurt every time Shannon decided being a mom or a wife was too much. And Buck got that. It was Eddie’s job to keep Christopher safe. And then life took a deadly turn and that bridge never needed to be crossed.

“I can count on you right?” asks Christopher in response to Buck’s words.

“Always,” promises Buck. “I’ll write you as soon as I’m settled and give you an address so we can write all the time.”

“And face-time?”

Buck nods, not wanting to put too much weight behind that promise. He’d love to still face-time his favorite kid, but he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to face Eddie on the other end without feeling so hurt and angry and betrayed. 

“Okay,” says Christopher quietly, snuggling into Buck’s side. “As long as you’re coming back.”

“I promise,” says Buck and he means it with all of his heart.

* * *

He’s checked out of the hospital within an hour of Christopher going to school. Lena and Maddie have his bags in the jeep as he requested. They stop for coffee, meeting up with Sal as well. 

“I’ll be back,” promises Buck. “I just need some time.”

“I know,” says Lena.

“Don’t you dare ignore my texts, asshole,” adds Sal.

Buck hugs each of them. He’s realizing how much he’s going to miss Sal and Lena and Coop especially, this trio that’s become so much more important than he knew.

He thought about telling Hen, of letting her be here, but she’s still a reminder of all that he’s lost, of all that’s been taken away from him. He left a letter for her with Maddie, to be passed on once he’s gone. 

A final hug for his sister with another whispered promise and then Buck’s on the road, Los Angeles slowly fading from view behind him.

* * *

Buck catches the sight of a green highway sign ahead of him. He takes a deep breath and steels himself for the next phase of his personal journey. 

“Welcome to Austin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At a point of exhaustion and intense emotional trauma, Buck chooses to unhook his safety gear and fall from a bridge into the river below, his tortured brain insisting it will be a moment of peace. Buck is fine. The very next scene confirms that. But I did want to warn for the sort of, but not really attempted suicide.


	3. Strange Pilgrimages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t specify exactly, but the time frame is about 10 days between Buck’s fall and arriving in Austin. He’s not speaking to the 118, so they don’t really know anything for a good portion of this. Also, they think he’s still in the hospital for a while longer because, without details, they all think it was a suicide attempt. They find out Buck’s gone on his first day in Austin (that scene comes later). I couldn’t find a great place to write that into the fic itself, but that particular window of time is referenced in upcoming scenes, so I wanted to be clear. 
> 
> And then this is probably the last chapter that only has very small changes. The next couple of chapters are a good mix of old and new until we get to the all-new chapters. 
> 
> Lastly, you don't need to know anything about Lonestar to read this. When I started writing this, it was based off about 2 episodes worth of characterization from Lonestar and that's it. Plus they barely feature. I didn't want to distract from the fact that Buck is giving himself a break, but he still wants to go back home eventually.

Austin is different. Buck can’t say that he had any strong expectations, except perhaps some outdated ideas about cowboys and southern drawls. 

But Austin is a city that thrives on its speed, while at the same time maintaining a neverending pressure to stop and take a rest for a moment. It’s an odd juxtaposition that Buck wonders if he’ll ever get a handle on. 

His first week there is for moving, transitioning, and meeting with his new captain. Strand insists that Buck take some time to get to know the city before he jumps in with the crew, points out that Austin isn’t quite what he may expect. Buck’s new team is at a station in the southwest of the city, an area he quickly learns barely counts as Austin if you’re local, on the way out of town to the touristy hill country destinations. 

Nothing will ever be as bad as LA traffic, but he finds that he hates I-35 with a passion after only driving on it twice, and finds an apartment about twenty minutes away from work, a little closer to the heart of the city. 

The only cowboy or cowgirl sort that he sees are quite obviously tourists, everyone else dresses rather like what he’s used to, and Buck slowly adjusts his perspective. 

The voices are still with him, still whisper that he’s failing, failing, failing.

But here, the voices fade faster and he can shut them up easier when he doesn’t spend half of his life staring at the walls that scream out his shortcomings or riding in a truck that should have Eddie sitting in his eye line, should have Chimney and Hen teasing alongside, should have Bobby telling them to behave from the front seat. 

He calls Lena who puts him on speakerphone with the rest of his tsunami recovery group of sorts and tells them about his place and the city and that no, he hasn’t tried barbecue yet but yes, he’s had tacos already. Sal complains that they switched games because, without him, some games just aren’t as fun, citing the need for four people to make it fair and that Lena still trounces all of them. 

Lena just laughs and Buck winces at how much he misses these people so suddenly, people he’d never spoken to a year ago. 

He passes on his new address as he warns that he might not call his first week or so at the station. 

Sal and Lena give him grief, but Coop shuts them both up, pointing out that Buck needs to take a minute to settle in with a new team, to find a home, and he can’t do that if he’s forever focused on the people he left behind. 

Maddie sends him constant texts and refuses to talk until he facetimes, walking through his neighborhood to show the restaurants and bars in the area. He shows her the walking trails he jogs on in the morning. 

Buck asks her to get in touch with Eddie so that Christopher can write to him if that’s okay. He does make it clear that she’ll need to send the letters to him and lets her know that he has one in the mail to Christopher already, explaining why he isn’t sharing his address after all. It’s not that Buck meant to lie. But he realizes that if the letters don’t get an intermediary, then Eddie will know where he is. Buck’s not okay with that. Especially when of all places, he ended up in Texas. 

And Buck knows, he  **_knows_ ** , that Texas is a big state and El Paso is very different and it doesn’t mean anything that he came to Eddie’s home state. 

But it does. It means something that Buck isn’t willing to dwell on. Something he wants to keep quiet and tucked away until he’s ready to deal with those feelings. 

He doesn’t even consider asking if there’s a way for Christopher to keep Buck’s location secret or any such thing. He’d never put any sort of barrier between a father who loves his son. Such things are far rarer than they should be. 

So he lays the puppy dog eyes on thick with Maddie, as though she wouldn’t have agreed to anything he asked already--her guilt still weighs heavily on her and there’s a tiny part of Buck that’s hurt and angry enough to let it--and she promises to make his request as soon as she receives that first letter to deliver to Christopher.

* * *

Buck blocks the numbers of everyone from the 118 on his second day in Austin. To Hen, he sends a single text first that just says he needs some time. Says when Maddie brings a letter to her, that’s when he’ll be ready to talk. 

For a moment, he wants to wait, wants to see if they say anything. But he also doesn’t want to have to analyze anything further. Doesn’t want the voices to get louder when they all demand to know why he’d leave, why he didn’t talk to them, why he wouldn’t ask for help.

He’ll be the one at fault again.

Always the burden.

So he blocks everyone.

No.

He blocks everyone but Eddie.

Goes back and forth on that until he finally decides that Christopher wins over anything else. 

His letter to Christopher doesn’t end up reaching Maddie until he’s nearly a week into working at the 136. That evening he gets one long text from Eddie.

Eddie’s message is that he put a different ringtone for Buck, so if he calls for Christopher, Eddie will go in the other room. Eddie’s text says it’s because he doesn’t want Buck’s rightful anger and hurt at him to mean he’s too uncomfortable to call Chris. He also sends his new schedule, suggesting that if Buck wants to call when Eddie’s working, that’s okay. There’s nothing of blame, no questions of why or how or anything else.

Buck doesn’t know how to take it.

Shoves it in the little closet in his mind labeled Eddie Diaz and focuses on his new life.

* * *

His first day at the 136, Captain Strand sits down with him for about an hour. The man asks fewer questions than Buck expects, talks more about the team that Buck will be working with more than anything else. 

He introduces him to everyone, then passes him off to Judd, the second-most senior member of the team.

Judd takes him through a tour of the station, explaining how everything works and some of the back story of the previous crew. Buck can tell it’s going to take a minute to get used to being an all-firefighter team. Texas sends both firefighters and paramedics out together, but the squads are separate, each with their own captain. 

“After every second rotation is your therapy appointment,” Judd is saying. “Marlene had some space for a rolling 2 pm opening since we usually go to lunch as a squad after our shift.”

“I actually already completed my physical therapy post-tsunami injuries,” says Buck. “That should have been sent over with the transfer paperwork.”

“Nah man, Marlene is one of the counselors at a local therapy center. A shrink. It’s one of Cap’s requirements. Everyone on the team has a mandatory weekly session.”

Buck frowns and shifts nervously back and forth. “Uh, I don’t really want…”

Judd cuts him off. “Not really up to you. Honestly, though, we all fought it at first, but it’s the best thing any Captain’s ever done for me. For all of us really.” He claps a firm hand on Buck’s shoulder. “And it’s pretty obvious you need to talk to someone. You’re wound tighter than a rattler guarding her nest.”

* * *

As it turns out, Judd’s right.

Marlene is amazing. She puts up with none of his cagey bullshit. Buck’s always had the impression that shrinks just poke at you until feelings come out and don’t actually offer advice. Or you know, fuck you in their office when you’re supposed to be getting counseling on your own self-diagnosed sex addiction. 

But Marlene isn’t that way at all. He talks and she advises and he relearns who he is. 

It does take a few sessions to get anywhere since he’s not even sure how to talk to anyone about his problems. About all the hurt he’s kept bottled up inside. 

Until one day when Marlene calls and gives him a different address to meet her at. 

Buck ends up at something called puppy therapy, where Marlene tells him that she’ll be listening so they can work with this in the future, but she wants him to spend an hour with the puppies and tell them what he’s feeling. She says he’s been like sap trickling from a tree trunk, but he’s not built for that. He’s built for honesty, for transparency. Marlene suggests that if he can find a way to open the floodgates of his emotional dam, to let everything out at once, then they can truly start moving down a path towards healing.

Buck can’t see what good it will do as he walks in. But then he sits down on the floor, and every puppy in the room comes running at him, jumping and begging for attention, all of them clearly loving this new friend unconditionally.

And Buck breaks. He’s completely, utterly, devastatingly broken. He sobs his heart out as a little golden retriever licks at his face. He cuddles a too-big-for-his-own-body St Bernard puppy and sobs. 

This is all he’s ever wanted. 

To be loved without condition. 

To know that he isn’t tied to expectation or performance or capability. It’s a love he never received growing up. It’s one he thought he could have, thought he did have right up until he didn’t, with the 118.

The realization of exactly what he’s been craving does exactly what Marlene wanted. The words come pouring out of him. He talks about everything. About that moment of sheer terror when the bomb went off and he was pinned under that truck. About how everyone focused on the truck crushing him and expected him to have an aversion to car wrecks for a while, but flinching at loud noises made him a joke. He talks about how he’s never been afraid of death, but of not being able to choose how it happens. It’s a deeper part of why he became a firefighter, why he nearly became a Navy Seal.

He runs towards death. Death does not come for him. 

But that changed. First the truck and then he was supposed to be better, but the pulmonary embolism came. The tsunami ripped his world open. He wasn’t beaten by it, not completely, but he was scared, scared that he’d lost his choice. 

Buck talks about growing up without feeling like he had a family because his mom left and Maddie left and his father hated him.

He talks about the hurt he felt as the 118 rejected him after he kept getting injured. Pushed him aside like he was a foster kid no one wanted after all.

Buck pours out his heart to these puppies, session after session. Out of sight but not earshot, Marlene listens and takes notes, and in the coming months, they unpack all of these emotions. They break Buck further apart and put the pieces back together in someone whole and honest.

But the best part of moving to Texas, the best part of therapy for Buck, that’s the monthly group session. The three hours a month where his squad comes together and they discuss their emotions, their fears, and their successes. Buck learns to ask for what he wants. What he needs. He learns the difference between what he gives others and what he craves for himself.

He’s a man of action. Open his house to Maddie, help Christopher, take away Eddie’s stress, never stop trying to please his Captain. Actions are how he shows his love.

Words are what he craves. They can send him soaring or crush his spirit.

Buck talks to his new squad, tells them what he needs. He listens and pays attention. Captain Strand needs gifts, little things to know people care, little mementos. They’ve all learned that the Cap showed his love in his gift of the espresso machine, he receives it when they make him an espresso as he walks in the door. TK craves touch, Marjan thrives on words. Mateo is like him, needing words of affirmation, but also wanting an approving touch to go with it. 

As time passes, the aches in his heart lessened. The wounds stop merely scabbing over and actually heal.

He finds he knows his team well enough to know where they stand at any given moment. That they know him just as well. He doesn’t look for support before running into a fire. It’s always at his side. Sometimes it reminds him of Eddie and his heart aches again and his chest feels tight.

Five months after moving to Texas, Buck straps his gear on and heads into a rescue, his team at his back.

He no longer runs towards death. She has no power. He faces death and he is not alone.


	4. Memories of My Melancholy Whores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot more here this time around of Buck’s therapy and working through a lot of stuff. It is however, not focused on the people who hurt him the most. It’s going to take time for Buck to be ready to deal with that. Also, as a writer, I felt like this kind of builds up more people in his corner, so that the idea of returning to LA feels less and less like coming back to the lion’s den.  
> The quote that Buck includes is also by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.  
> If you want some good mood music for this chapter, Brandi Carlile's "The Joke", Katie Melua's "It's Only Pain", and Alexz Johnson's " 2 AM" are some pretty solid ones.

“I think you need to contact your old team,” says Marlene during what, until now, had been a very comfortable therapy session. 

“What--why, why would you say that?” stammers Buck. 

“You don’t have to call them or reveal where you are,” she says, her tone even and calm. “But we’ve been working on honesty and until you address the anger and hurt you feel about how they treated you, you won’t be able to move forward any further.”

Buck gets that, he does, but at the same time… ”I know it’s been four months, but I still don’t think I’m ready to hear what they have to say. It’s too soon for a conversation.”

Marlene is quiet as she processes that. “Perhaps a letter?” she suggests. “Sent to your sister so that she can distribute them and let the others know you aren’t ready to open up a full dialogue, and they can’t reply like they could to an email or a text.”

“Is that fair?” asks Buck. 

“Fair?”

“For me to talk about why I’m upset when I’m not ready to listen in return.”

“The things that are healing aren’t always fair,” answers Marlene. “But I do take your point.”

“So I don’t have to do it?” asks Buck, perking up. He and Marlene have accomplished a lot so far, but Buck’s finding it a lot easier to deal with childhood pain than it is to address the reason he came to Austin in the first place. But Marlene’s been steadily holding him accountable to both issues and reminding him that it will have to be addressed, so he can’t say this is unsurprising. Still, if he can get out of this particular hurdle, he will.

Marlene shakes her head. “Not so fast. I will include a note with some instructions to your sister about how she can explain why you won’t be reading any replies yet, to provide some context.” At Buck’s skeptical look she adds a quick disclaimer, “Nothing about our sessions, in fact, I’ll make sure you look over the letter first. Just something to make sure the others take this effort for what it is, a step in the healing process, not a way to assign blame.”

And while Buck is still nervous about the whole idea, he knows she’s right. There’s been this pressure against his heart, weighing him down, he needs to release some of the weight from these hurts.

* * *

One part is easy. He doesn’t have to write Hen. That letter was already passed on a couple of weeks after he arrived in Austin. It’s a little bit funny, he thinks, that he somehow knew writing a letter would be the way to go, and now he’s being asked to write letters again. 

And all things considered, that one went pretty well.

**~Hen POV Flashback~**

When Hen gets her letter from Buck, she reads it, processes it, and reads it again. Then she waits for her wife to come home and lets her read it as well. 

“What do you want to say?” asks Karen.

“I want to apologize like I’ve been wanting to do for a while, as he deserves.”

“And?” asks Karen, because she knows her wife well and that clearly isn’t the end of it.

“And then I want to shake him because there’s a whole lot of selfishness in this letter. Or if not selfish, a lot of misguided ideas of what was going on with everyone else.” Hen sighs. “But I don’t want to put that in a letter.”

They sit together, Karen moving at one point to make some tea while Hen ponders her next move. “He did say I could write back…”

Karen shakes her head. “Permission? To write a letter? Since when do you need someone’s permission?”

“Since I--we--let him down and didn’t feel like he could trust us,” replies Hen. “I still don’t know where he is. Only Maddie knows that. And Buck wrote all of us but according to Maddie, she’ll only be sending back replies from myself or any of the kids. Not that Buck ever stopped talking to the kids anyway.”

“I can’t say that’s all that surprising. Buck’s always been a giant softie when it comes to any of our kids. So you’ll write to him?”

Hen frowns. “Yes. Sort of. I think I have an idea.”

She sends a small note in reply, asking if Buck would consider calling her, promising to keep any information quiet if he is willing to talk. She simply says that she wants to apologize, but that she thinks it would be better to talk without the concern of misspoken words and misunderstandings. 

It takes a couple of weeks, but eventually, Maddie brings in a letter that just says okay and includes a phone number.

When she calls, the apology is foremost. She didn’t agree with Bobby’s actions then and it wasn’t enough to just tell Buck that. He deserved to have someone in his corner. 

The thing is, Hen points out to him, that for all that she missed about Buck, he missed a hell of a lot about her struggles at the time. And after a few minutes of sharing, it’s Buck who expresses an apology in return. 

“You’re allowed to be stuck in your own head, Buck,” says Hen. “But you can’t expect everyone else to be stuck there too. Not if you aren’t telling anyone that you’re stuck.”

Buck replies for a few minutes and Hen listens.

“What if,” she suggests, “instead of continuing to pass blame or regret or apologies, we accept each other’s forgiveness and move on?”

“Move on?” queries Buck.

“Move forward,” corrects Hen. “I’d like to be able to talk to my friend again.”

Buck is quiet. Then. “I don’t really want to hear about the 118 or about…”

“So no work talk then. I think we can find plenty to talk about that isn’t work-related.”

Buck agrees and so they do. He doesn’t call much, other than to wish Denny or Nia a happy birthday. But they text often, sometimes about silly things, sometimes seriously, and for now, thinks Hen, that’s enough. She’s not going to push him to talk to anyone else yet, but she’ll be there so Buck has a friend if he ever comes home.

**~End Flashback~**

* * *

Before he starts any additional letters, Buck brings up that early conversation with Hen in his next therapy session. “That went okay,” he says to Marlene. 

“Define okay for me.”

“I was still kind of frustrated with her, but I thought she made some good points.” He sits for a minute, thinking Marlene will comment, but she seems to be waiting on him to continue. “Hen told me about some of the stuff she was dealing with, that I didn’t know about. That I didn’t even ask about,” he amends. 

“But you were still frustrated…”

Buck makes a noise of dissatisfaction. “She said she was always on my side, that she didn’t agree with Bobby’s actions.”

Marlene waits.

“If she was on my side, why didn’t she ever say anything?”

“Maybe that’s something you need to ask her about.”

“I did, actually. You and I had just been talking about how my feelings are valid, even if my perspective on an experience is different than someone else’s or through a narrower lens than I realize.” That particular therapy session stood out to Buck because it was one of the last ones before Marlene tried puppy therapy. He’d been so furious and so hurt and yet every time he tried to talk about it, he kept trying to justify why everyone else was angry at him. Marlene had gently stopped that train of thought, pointing out that he was here to focus on how he feels. On how he felt. That this was a space safe for him to just be, not a space to justify or defend. 

And then he’d talked to Hen and a lot of that anger had just come spilling out. He says as much to Marlene now. 

“I wanted her to defend me in front of me,” he explains. “How was I supposed to know she had my back when Bobby was still pushing me out and Eddie wasn’t talking to me and I never saw any of them? And Hen apologized for that. She said I was right, I deserved to see someone on my side, not just be told about it.”

“How did that make you feel?” asks Marlene.

Buck hates that phrase so much. But… ”Still kind of frustrated, but also like there was a way for us to move forward. And I think we have,” he adds. “We text and sometimes facetime so I can say hi to Karen and the kids. It’s not perfect, but it’s better.”

* * *

He still doesn’t write any of the other letters Marlene asked for. 

Their next session, Buck’s had time to think about what he might want to say. He’s been pissed off all week, snapping more than once at his team, until Captain Strand grounded him to cleaning duty for the rest of the shift, telling him to get his shit together.

Buck’s angry at Bobby. At everything he might consider putting in a letter. How is telling someone they’ll regret coming back to work a misunderstanding? He and Hen miscommunicated and so did he with Maddie, but with Bobby? With Eddie? Sticking him on shifts away from his family, not speaking to him, telling him he was exhausting? Those aren’t miscommunications.

Marlene acknowledges that she can’t answer that one, but that it’s certainly hard to find an explanation that makes sense. Especially without knowing what Bobby was thinking or feeling. 

Buck mentions that she could make sense of Hen and Marlene reminds him that Hen is communicating. She also points out that he’s never seemed as upset by Hen’s actions, that it’s Bobby & Eddie who hurt Buck the most. Why is that? 

Buck dodges the question at first. Tries to explain that the captain before Bobby was pretty sexist and racist so it kind of makes sense that everyone else might not be so willing to rock the boat. 

Marlene doesn’t let that stand for a moment. “Tell me something about Bobby in particular. You’ve indicated that your relationship with Bobby is, perhaps nontraditional? How do your feelings towards him affect your reaction to the situation?” 

That voice pops up, the voice that’s been growing quieter, even disappearing entirely since he came to Austin. Buck knows that Bobby’s like a father to him. That he feels like the dad he never had. And sure, there’s probably some stuff to unpack about that too. But the voice is insidious. Can Buck really be surprised that another father figure considers him a failure? This is who he is. Never enough, never enough, never enough. Always a disappointment.

“I don’t want to talk about Bobby,” he snaps, lashing out in anger instead of the tears that threaten to spill over.

Sometimes Marlene won’t let him step away from a difficult conversation, knowing his ultimate goal is to break through these issues. But one of the reasons Buck likes her is that she’s good about knowing when pushing him will get to a breakthrough and when it will result in a breakdown. This time, she lets it go. Turns the conversation in another direction.

They talk about Chimney, about why Buck was upset at him, and about how the teasing doesn’t always come across as kind. 

They talk about how Maddie left so early in Buck’s childhood, that he didn’t grow up with a sibling.

And Marlene points out that perhaps Chimney thinks Buck’s more open to teasing because he doesn’t know how the words impact Buck himself. That Buck needs to use his words and communicate his needs.

* * *

So he starts this time around with his letter to Chimney, the easiest of the bunch. To him, he’s able to express how he felt, express the loneliness and the anger. He tells Chimney about his reasons for the lawsuit, that he wasn’t trying to hurt them, he was just so angry at being replaced. 

Buck tries not to put too much of his anger at Bobby into the letter, but he can tell a little bit leaks over anyway. 

He leaves it in. 

He misses him sometimes and says as much.

At other times, Buck never wants to see him, or any of them, ever again, and he says this too. 

The toughest bit is trying to explain that the teasing hurts, that he knows Chimney means it fondly, but Buck’s mind doesn’t always know to process it as such. 

There’s a lot to say and Buck wants this to mean that a door back to friendship, to rebuilding these relationships, is at least cracked open, so he does his best to be honest but open, to leave a way to forgiveness amidst the rubble.

* * *

Buck expects his letter to Bobby to be long when he sits down to write it. He expects to feel like he’s oversharing, spilling words onto page after page to get out how much Bobby’s actions and words hurt so much. How the lack of words later cut even deeper. And yet, when he sits at his kitchen table, it's not until his coffee is ice cold and he’s shoved away three tearstained pages that he’s able to begin to find any words at all.

_ Bobby, _

_ I still don’t know how to talk to you. I want to scream and cry and scream some more and yet now when I’m supposed to do all of those things, I don’t know how. _

_ You said this--the 118--that we weren’t a family and then you turned us into one, brought us together, taught us how to care about each other, right up until I needed my family the most. _

_ I don’t...I don’t understand. _

_ When I came back after the lawsuit, you told me I might regret coming back. ~~ Did you have to put so much effort into making sure I did? ~~ _

_ Evan Buckley _

He’s aware his letter to Bobby is harsh, brutal, perhaps too much so when he isn’t giving him the option to write back. It’s why he crosses out that last line. If he was kinder, maybe he’d rewrite the other parts to a new page and never let some of those thoughts reach Bobby. But Buck’s hurting still, and forgiveness, if it can ever happen, is a long way off. 

So he signs it formally and adds it to the pile to send to Maddie.

* * *

His last letter is to Eddie. 

In a twist that should feel more surprising than it does, Buck goes into it thinking that Eddie’s is going to be the tough one, but it ends up being so easy. 

Four weeks after he moved to Austin, Eddie had called him. Buck hadn’t answered, knowing it wasn’t Christopher, who only used Whatsapp to call so Buck had a heads-up on who it was. Eddie had been drinking, clearly, his tone a little more weepy than it would have been sober. 

Buck hadn’t been ready to deal with that then, still isn’t sure he’s ready to face Eddie, but he doesn’t want to be scared of the things he’s never said. 

So he replays the voicemails that he’s had saved for months and pours his heart onto the pages.

_ Eddie, _

_ I wanted so very badly to start this with ‘My Eddie’, because that’s how I saw you for so long. As mine.  _

_ I had to get despairingly drunk to even start this letter. Then I set it aside and waited until I was sober because my therapist told me these need to be honest and vulnerable. I can be vulnerable when drunk, but I’m not sure I could be honest. And you deserve honesty. We both do.  _

_ When we first met, I was a dick. Just an absolute asshole. I’ve never had the guts to tell you the truth until now. Maybe I still don’t have the guts. This is after all a letter while I’m hundreds of miles away from you. The first thing I thought when I saw you was that I wanted to drop to my knees in the middle of the fire station and undo your pants with my teeth. I mean, fuck, Eddie have you seen yourself? _

_ I overcompensated. Way overcompensated. Do you remember asking me what my problem was? I said it was you. Your comfort level. It wasn’t that you acted like you belonged with the team. It was like my world suddenly had light in it again. This stupid gorgeous light that was you.  _

_ It did and didn’t scare me that you were a guy. I know I like both men and women. Well, once upon a time I knew I liked men too. Then I was taught not to, over and over until I learned the lesson. But it scared me. I hadn’t felt so attracted to anyone in a while. I was still trying to figure out the next steps after Abby and I didn’t even think about her once that first day.  _

_ And then you were decent, even while I was a dick. You were kind. I met Christopher and discovered your heart was bigger than any one person’s could possibly be.  _

_ You welcomed me into your life and it was my favorite place in the world. To this day, there’s no happier memory than of you and me and Christopher sprawled across the living room floor, building Lego fire stations and laughing.  _

_ I don’t really want to share much of what I wrote to the others. I had a lot of anger, a lot of hurt that I needed them to know about. I can’t blame you for hurting me, Eddie. I hurt you. I was supposed to keep Christopher safe, to protect him. I failed that. I failed you. I wish I hadn’t. I’m so sorry for failing both of you.  _

_ Do you remember the day I introduced you to Carla? God, it’s so vivid. You were so exhausted, overwhelmed with the newness of the job and the stress the earthquake caused and the relative newness of the city. It was like this invisible brick kept crushing you and I just wanted to lift it away, to take away the burden. _

_ And then somehow I became one of your burdens instead. I know I can be exhausting. I don’t mean to be. I wanted to be...shit, I don’t even know how to explain what I wanted to be. _

_ This is rambling so I’ll just confess my heart and leave it at this. I love you, Eddie Diaz.  _

_ With everything in me, I love you.  _

_ Perhaps a part of me will never stop.  _

_ A favorite writer of mine said, “ Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching.” _

_ I ache.  _

_ I know I wasn’t deserving of your love, that I failed the chance to prove it. But if I died today, I would die with the regret of never telling you how desperately I love you.  _

_ Yours,  _

_ Buck _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated for a while about whether to include Chimney and Buck's semi-reconciliation in this chapter (obviously none of them will solve everything at a distance), but ultimately, because Chimney and Buck's issues also have to be dealt with Maddie involved too, I'm keeping it to the next chapter.  
> The other thing is that I know everyone's pretty angry at Bobby and Eddie in the comments. Which I guess is a good sign that I'm doing my job still in the emotional torture. But I think it's important to keep in mind that Eddie's a man reacting to having lost his best friend/man he loves for weeks without warning from a lawsuit, after learning he nearly lost Buck and Christopher to the tsunami, right after Buck nearly died twice, just after his ex-wife died. He's a man reacting out of fear and sometimes those reactions are very, very ugly.  
> Bobby also reacts out of fear. But the difference, and this will absolutely be coming into play through the rest of the fic, is that Bobby is in a position of authority. And he has a responsibility to act and react to situations from that position, not from a place of fear.  
> Anyway, hopefully that kind of gives y'all some idea of the next steps in this journey of healing for Buck.


	5. Autumn of the 118

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all bits and pieces of life with the 118 while Buck is gone. It does kind of jump around in terms of a timeline and I didn’t get too specific just so I don’t accidentally shoot myself in the foot later on. I don’t think it should be too confusing though. Just know that it’s snippets that aren’t necessarily chronological.
> 
> A gentle reminder that each chapter is getting more pieces of the puzzle, of each of these people having to communicate a little more, to open up and admit their vulnerabilities. Buck’s let Hen in, and in this chapter Chimney will get to step back into his life as well, but the two people that hurt him the most, he’s still pushing away. Marlene will let him get away with that for a little while, because he has a lot to work through, but not forever. Baby steps, ya know. 
> 
> Also, sometimes people say things and we don’t realize how deeply someone else internalized it. Specifically in this fic, Eddie telling Buck “you’re exhausting.” This will get addressed, but until Eddie gets that letter from Buck, it genuinely never crosses his mind that it's been running through Buck’s head. He knows he messed up. He just didn’t know exactly where it was. For Eddie, that comment was after he’s exhausted. He just got bailed out, his best friend can’t talk to him, he’s still figuring out how to mourn Shannon, he feels like he’s failing his kid. Like, I’m not excusing his words, but Eddie spit that out like you might yell “fuck!” in exasperation. Eddie will address those words, but not with perhaps the same weight we wish he would, because he doesn’t know that moment is isolated in Buck’s mind. (Yet)..

_ Write him back, _ says Athena.

_ He won’t let us, _ Bobby answers,  _ he’s too hurt and he has every right to be _ .

_ Then write the letter anyway, _ she says.  _ Tell him the things you should have said, the things you wish you did, and if he ever gives you the chance, make sure that boy knows how much you love him. _

So he writes.

_Buck_ ,

_ I owe you an apology. A chance to beg your forgiveness for the way I treated you. You deserve that to come in person, not in a letter, but if I get the chance to send this before you’re willing to come home, I don’t want to neglect the opportunity. I’ve missed a lot of very necessary apologies in my life and I would hate to think you could ever think you don’t deserve one. _

_ So I apologize. I ask for your forgiveness even though I know I don’t deserve it. And if given the chance, I will ask for it again. _

_ I don’t know how to find the words to explain all of my actions, at least not without it sounding like an excuse, so I’m going to tell you a story. Please know that I don’t mean anything as an excuse. I was wrong and that’s the reality. But it is clear to me that you believe I feel a certain way about you and your actions and I would like to rectify that if I can. _

_ The night my family died, I wasn’t scared. I should have been. I should have been terrified. But I wasn’t, because I contributed to that night, and in the moments of that fire, I was angry and I was overwhelmed with guilt. I was angry with myself and angry at God for taking them when I was right here and didn’t I deserve it more. For a long time, if someone had asked, I would have included fear in that list. And then I learned what true fear feels like and so I don’t include it anymore. _

_ And then that young man came after me with his bombs and his anger and it hurt you and I was scared. For a moment, I was scared I wouldn’t stop him from blowing himself up and taking you with him. Then I did and it was just worrying about saving you. But even that isn’t the point of this story. That comes at your party after you passed your tests to return to active duty at the 118. It was then that I felt complete and utter terror and the moment I realized how important you were, how important you are, to me.  _

_ I don’t fully know how to express that fear, Buck. You coughed up that blood and you collapsed in front of me and if you weren’t surrounded by paramedics you would have died. You nearly died anyway and it wasn’t in a fire or an earthquake or doing some other insanely heroic move.  _

_It was at a party. You were supposed to be safe. I was supposed to keep you safe. I was supposed to protect you_ …

Bobby pauses and sets the pen down, his eyes too full of tears to even read his own words. The line of the last sentence is roughly scribbled, a few tear stains on the paper. 

“I can’t,” he says to himself in a ragged whisper and shoves the half-written letter in his desk drawer.

* * *

Eddie knows he’s being too impatient with everyone. It’s not just his teammates, all of whom are on edge with themselves and with each other as they wait for Buck to calm down enough to let them see him, to let them apologize.

He’s being short with the victims, the people who call them to need help. None of his team is overwhelmingly patient as a rule with the calls that stem from complete stupidity, but he just made a young father burst into tears and even Chimney gave him a big enough ‘dude, what the hell’ look to make Eddie feel like shit.

He reigns himself in on calls. 

He won’t skip out on talking to his son, not ever, but he admits that he waits until the last possible moment, not really wanting to hear about Christopher’s visit with Buck.

If he’s honest, he desperately wants to know if Buck mentioned him at all, if Buck hinted at ever being open to speaking to Eddie again. 

But then, if he’s very, very honest, he’s also more than a little scared that Christopher, with his uncanny perception into other people, will want to know what Eddie did. Will want to know why he made his Buck so sad. More than anything, that’s an answer he doesn’t even know how to begin to give.

So he talks to Christopher and tells him goodnight and that he loves him, but he’s only half-listening when Christopher asks for reassurance that he’ll be able to call Buck and still talk to him. “Of course, buddy,” he says. Buck has never denied Christopher anything within his power to provide and Eddie knows that will never change. He won’t get in the way if Buck needs a little more time before he’s willing to let Eddie grovel.

In the morning though, Eddie realizes maybe he should have listened a little more closely after all.

* * *

There are a couple more hours left on their shift, though with the next crew rotating in, they’ll be spent in paperwork and cleaning up from earlier calls, and getting the next shift ready. Bobby and the lieutenants who supervise the other crews, like the one Buck was on, assign paperwork, training exercises, and any remaining cleaning work. 

As such, Eddie is eating breakfast with Hen and Chimney, while Bobby pretends to nibble at a piece of toast and go over some papers. 

It’s a quiet meal. Not, as might be easily assumed, because they are preoccupied with thoughts and worries about Buck, though that’s true, but because their meals have been quiet for months. Or at least, even if others are talking, the four of them are usually quiet.

Eddie understood Bobby’s reasoning for putting Buck on a different team. If he wasn’t trying to impress Bobby or be as good as the rest or make sure he always had Eddie’s back so that Eddie would go home to his son, maybe he would be less at risk. Stay safe. All they wanted was for Buck to stay safe.

And now Eddie’s wondering if they messed up. Maybe if they’d kept Buck on their crew, they could have seen that he was having trouble dealing with the aftermath of the tsunami. Christopher’s had nightmares, it makes sense that Buck would as well. 

“Captain Nash?” comes a call from below.

“Yeah, Bishop?” answers Bobby, not looking up from his paperwork. If it’s that important, they all know to just come up to the loft.

Bishop is gruff in his response--none of the other crews at the 118 have been talking to them much since Buck....fell. He fell. “Visitors for you.”

Eddie joins the others in looking up to see Lena Bosko and Sal Deluca standing at the base of the stairs. “Lena?” he asks, frowning slightly. 

“Transfer paperwork for you, sir,” says Sal to Bobby. 

Lena stares dead ahead, not even her eye line flickering towards Eddie or anyone else.

Bobby comes down the stairs, followed by the others, and flicks through the forms. “Look, I appreciate Captain Cooper’s efforts to make sure we’re covered until Buck is out of the hospital, but we can get by with some overtime for a few days.”

“No sir, you can’t,” answers Lena. She passes over another set of forms.

Bobby seems to give those another cursory look, then pauses, his face paling.

“Cap?” asks Eddie.

“Bobby?” adds Hen. “What’s wrong?”

“These must be a mistake,” stammers Bobby, his look at Lena and then Sal one of sheer disbelief.

Lena shakes her head. “Buck asked us to deliver his resignation papers for him.”

Eddie feels like he’s been shot. Resignation? This is Buck. He would never walk away from being a firefighter. It’s who he is, what he loves.

“Let’s just put a pause on this,” says Bobby. “I’ll talk to Buck and get this sorted out.”

“Oh that’s definitely not happening,” snaps Lena.

“His decision is made,” adds Sal. “And we aren’t here because of Captain Cooper or Captain Fitz. The Chief felt it prudent to have experienced replacements available immediately, both so that the station is fully staffed and in the case that any team members need to take some personal time.”

Both Sal and Lena’s eyes flicker, ever so briefly, in Eddie’s direction. With sudden clarity, he’s reminded of his conversation with Christopher last night, of words he barely registered. “I’ll still be able to talk to Buck, right?” was what Christopher had asked. Buck had needed to talk to Christopher, said it was important, and Eddie knows Buck would never leave Christopher without saying goodbye. 

He once thought he fit in the same category of importance, but clearly, he fucked that up more than he ever thought possible.

And so Eddie knows what Lena is going to say before the words come out. 

“Buck’s gone,” says Lena.

“To--to another station?” asks Hen.

“He’s left California,” says Lena and the vitriol in her voice is plainly evident. Eddie’s rather suddenly and brutally reminded that Buck hangs out with Lena now. So she knows. Whatever Buck’s been dealing with, she probably has a little bit better idea than the rest of them, and she’s looking at them like they’re the kind of scum you scrape off the bottom of your shoe.

A clang of something being thrown breaks the stunned silence. Eddie looks up to see Olivia standing near a fallen stand of weights, her look of rage echoed by the other members of Buck’s substitute crew. 

Eddie realizes a truth that he had clearly been ignoring for months. He doesn’t have friends here, not outside of Bobby and Chimney and Hen. In fact, none of them do. The looks of disgust and worry and anger are evident in the faces of the other teams, blaming Eddie and his crew for this loss of Buck. Eddie can certainly understand that. 

“He...Buck just left?” questions Chimney.

Eddie doesn’t listen to the answer. He doesn’t look to see if Bobby is replying or what Hen or Chimney are doing. He doesn’t wait to hear more of what anyone else has to say. He walks past the trucks, through the doors, and doesn’t stop until he reaches his truck.

He doesn’t stop crying until his phone alarm goes off with its reminder to pick Christopher up from school. He goes through the motions until he can crawl into his bed and cry himself to sleep.

Over and over again.

* * *

He’ll learn later that Bobby protests these particular additions. Not against their talent as firefighters, but that personality-wise, they might not be the right fit. That they could make do for a week or two while the Chief finds others.

Eddie will learn, when he comes back from his self-imposed week of personal leave, that the Chief adamantly refused to consider Bobby’s request.

That in fact, the only reason Lena and Sal are there is that they only are the only ones who would. 

A call had been put out across the Los Angeles area, all firehouses within a reasonable distance of the 118, for anyone willing to substitute. 

It turned out that everyone knew what happened to Buck and more importantly, blamed Captain Nash and his crew. 

It wasn’t some sort of deliberate vindictiveness that put Sal Deluca and Lena Bosko in their station. No, it was simply a particularly cruel twist of fate, that they had all missed that during Buck’s recovery, during his rerun of the training program and time in administration work, that so many other firefighters got to know and respect him. 

Lena and Sal weren’t the acceptable options. They were the only options. 

Because as it turns out, Eddie, and the rest of them that should have been at Buck’s side, that should have protected him...they fucked up.

Now they had to pay the price.

* * *

The nights when Buck calls Christopher are the worst nights.

Eddie wants to listen in more than anything in the world. He wants to sit out of sight, so his son can’t give him away, and just soak in those few minutes of hearing Buck’s voice.

If he could just reassure himself that Buck is okay, that he sounds happy, Eddie would let that tide him over.

But he forces himself to sit in his room, reads aloud anything he can get his hands on, plays music quietly enough that he can hear Christopher yell but not so quietly that it allows him to hear Buck. He puts every effort forth to honor Buck’s trust. He won’t fail Buck again.

And yet it tears at his heart, again and again.

* * *

**Missed call: Eddie. 1:15 am**

1 **voicemail** : “Buck? Buck! I miss you. Hen and Chim took me out for drinks tonight. Said I gots ta live my life again, yous know? I gots to be normal. They’re soooo dumb. If life was--was normal, you’d be here. You’d make dinner and hey Buck, why don’t you make us dinner anymore? You’re--hey, my pillow--you’re good at dinner, you’re good at all the things, you’re…”

**Missed call: Eddie. 1:23 am**

1 voicemail: “I should’ve kissed you. I’m a good kisser, did I tell you? Bet you’d be a good kisser. I’d be better than Ali-abb-li, better than whatsername. Shoulda kissed you so you’d have to stay. Can’t walk away from a good kiss.”

**Missed call: Eddie. 1:50 am**

**Missed call: Eddie. 2:07 am**

1 **voicemail** : “Buck? I’m sorry. I fucked up. I need--aw fuck, I’m not supposed to be doing this. Buck? Shit, I gots ta hang up. Not sposed to call. Not sposed to tell you I miss you. Tell you I lov…”

**New text: Maddie. 8:46 am**

I’m passing on a message from Eddie. He said he wanted to apologize for calling you last night after drinking but didn’t want to violate your request not to contact you now that he’s sober. Something about seeing a bunch of outgoing calls to you.

**New text: Maddie. 8:47 am**

And what’s this I’m hearing about you calling Christopher twice a week? I’m your sister, time to step it up kid.

**New text: Maddie. 8:51 am**

What kind of things does a drunk Eddie Diaz have to say?

**New text: Maddie. 8:54 am**

Nothing? Ugh, that’s no fun. 

**New text: Maddie. 9:02 am**

Yeah, yeah, love you too.

* * *

It’s Chimney who ends up voicing something a few weeks later about how he didn’t realize that many other firefighters knew who Buck was, let alone knew him well enough to refuse to work at his old station house. 

“The whole city saw that ladder truck on top of him,” says Sal in reply. He and Lena have made it clear that they won’t provide any information about Buck’s whereabouts, and they have no interest in hanging out outside of work. But they’re all still professionals. They’re first responders and they have a job to do. Being able to trust each other and work together matters. 

The only thing Eddie can come up with is that Buck must have loved the 118 enough to convince Lena and Sal to trust them. Well, Sal did technically work with Hen and Chimney before. His issue is more with Bobby. 

Lena’s more equal in her disdain for everyone. 

“He’s on the news all the time,” she says now. “Between the rescues and his face, the camera loves him.”

“And he sends birthday cards to every kid he’s ever rescued,” adds Sal.

“Wait, he what?”

They’re at the scene before anyone can follow up, but the call ends up being yet another example of just how much they missed with Buck. Of just how much they screwed up. 

“I kind of thought the tsunami was going to be the pinnacle of my shitty year,” says one of the victims. “But apparently that was just the beginning.”

Lena snorts from where she’s working on the woman’s husband and mutters “Bet Buck felt that way too, once upon a time.”

The woman, Erica, snaps to attention. “Wait, you know Buck? Firefighter Buck?”

“How do you know Buck?” asks Eddie. 

“He saved my life in the tsunami,” Erica answers. “I kept wanting to thank him, but none of us knew what station he worked at.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, all the people he saved. Was he okay afterward? I swear, he just kept going back in the water. Over and over again. He wouldn’t give up on anyone.”

Hen pauses in her dressing of the wounds of the husband. “How many people did he save?” she asks, her tone both a little curious and a little amazed. Buck never said anything about the tsunami. Even before everything that drove them all apart.

Erica thinks for a second, clearly counting in her head. “Um, let me see. There were 19 of us on the firetruck, plus I want to say 7 or 8 that he had to get across to the tow truck because it was the only other thing that was stable and high enough.”

“Buck saved 26 people?” asks Chimney, a touch of incredulity in his voice. 

“Oh god no,” exclaims Erica. “We were just the ones he got to before the wave receded. I think I had the count up to around 60 from the hospital. At least a lot of those were easier, first aid treatment and such versus the way he kept nearly drowning himself just to save everyone he could before the wave went back out.” She sighs. “I was at that temporary hospital getting treated and saw him, but he had his son back, and I didn’t want to intrude. I was just so happy Buck found him.”

“His son?”

“Christopher,” offers Erica’s husband. 

“Buck’s not actually Christopher’s dad,” says Hen gently, though she subsides when she sees Eddie minutely shake his head. 

“Coulda fooled me,” says Erica. “Anyone would be lucky to be loved like that.”

* * *

“Are we ever going to talk about this, mijo?” asks Abuela after they’ve finished the dishes from Sunday dinner.

Well, Eddie does the dishes, considering he’s never managed to be much good in the kitchen. While nearly everything makes him miss Buck, the reminder of how much better he and Christopher ate when Buck was around to help cook hits harder than most. He may have thrown out most of his pots and pans in a tantrum one night because nothing tastes right and Christopher was upset because Buck makes it better.

“About?” asks Eddie, genuinely confused. Did he miss something at Christopher’s school?

“About this Buck business,” says Pepa. She passes him and Abuela a beer out of the fridge and settles in with her own. 

“Why haven’t you gone to get your man?” asks Abuela.

Eddie stares. “I...my...Buck isn’t…”

Pepa takes a hint of pity on him. “Edmundo, you don’t think we knew how you felt about him? You invited him to Sunday dinner!”

“So you decided he was my man? Just because Shannon came to Sunday dinners doesn’t mean anyone I bring is a romantic interest,” protests Eddie.

Abuela gives him a judging look. “Mmm, but then, you never actually invited Shannon did you? Christopher did.”

Eddie stares again. He loves his family here in California, a lot more than his Texas family if he’s being honest, but they’re still pretty religious, and he wouldn’t have expected this much openness, even if he had been able to admit his feelings for Buck. “You would have been okay with that?” he asks hesitantly. “If I had...feelings...for a...a man?”

“Bit generous to call that boy a man,” says Pepa with a smile. 

“Where is that video?” asks Abuela, tapping at her phone. She finds the one she’s looking for, a clip from a show called “One Day at a Time” and Eddie watches along as an older Cuban woman makes herself quickly accepting of her gay granddaughter. “So you see?” says Abuela when the video is done. “It all makes sense. Now, back to business. How are you going to get Buck back?”

* * *

“Bobby, we have to talk about this,” says Athena, setting a cup of decaf coffee in front of Bobby while she sips on her own glass of pinot noir.

“He’ll come back,” says Bobby shortly.

“Will he?” asks Athena. “He thought everyone hated him enough that he needed to leave the damn state and you want to tell me that he’s just going to waltz back in the door next week?”

“It hasn’t been that long,” protests Bobby.

Athena frowns at him and Bobby shies away from the very perceptive look in her eyes. “I think you’re wrong,” says Athena. “But let’s set that aside for now. If Buck comes back…”

“When.” Bobby insists. Buck has to come back. He has to.

Athena wants to argue the point but lets it slide, inasmuch as she is capable of letting anything slide. “Then what kind of man is going to greet him? Because if this version of you is the one he gets to see, you’re going to end up right back in the same mess.”

“I know,” says Bobby, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I have to deal with this surrogate dad thing. Buck looked up to me like a son. I failed him, just like I failed all of my kids.”

“Bobby,” protests Athena softly. She doesn’t argue with him though. Not because she thinks he needs to carry the full weight of this guilt, but because she knows that sometimes people have enough responsibility in an event, that absolving them isn’t an option. There’s no honest way to tell Bobby that none of this with Buck was his fault. No honest way to say none of what happened to his first family was his fault. 

Sometimes, it’s not about absolution. Sometimes it’s about recognizing and owning your own participation and doing the work to be a better person in the future. 

But also, that’s not really the point Athena was trying to make. “I wasn’t talking about the personal relationship that you and Buck absolutely need to have a conversation about and figure out.”

“What were you talking about?” asks Bobby, turning to her in confusion.

“Your first responsibility to Buck was as his captain. Not his friend or a father-like figure or anything else,” says Athena firmly. “You are his boss. That’s the first role you need to figure out.”

* * *

Chimney can tell the day everyone else gets the letters. 

Or well, to be more accurate, he can tell the day Eddie and Bobby get theirs. 

Because as he’s learned recently, the amount of people Buck has stayed in touch with is exponentially larger than the number of people he shut out. But Chimney’s also very aware that quantity doesn’t always equal quality. If all of those people had been enough, Buck wouldn’t have fallen. He wouldn’t have let the trauma overwhelm him so much before he asked for help. Buck needed them to be better.

Still, he got his letter a few weeks ago. Wrote Buck back. Talked to Maddie and Hen. Got lectured, educated, then lectured some more. 

He and Hen have been waiting for the shit to hit the fan. So to speak. 

Bobby and Eddie look broken, like the fragile glue holding them together just got hit with a sledgehammer. When they finally get a chance for some downtime, Hen has a word with Lena, who hangs out at the top of the stairs, redirecting anyone else who tries to come over, while Chimney drags Eddie and Bobby to the couches.

“So,” he says.

“So what?” mutters Bobby.

Eddie just stares at his feet, like he’s been doing all day when they’re not on a call. 

“Bobby, we have to talk about this,” says Hen. When their Captain doesn’t respond, she pushes further. “We know Buck wrote you guys too.”

“Guys, not talking about these kinds of issues is one of the things that got us in this mess in the first place,” tries Chim. “Let’s not repeat old mistakes.”

“What’s the point?” sighs Eddie. “It’s not like he trusts us enough to let us apologize. Not like we deserve a second chance.”

“Maybe not. What if he decides to give you one anyway?”

Chimney doesn’t tell them that he’s been given one. Can see the tiny headshake from Hen that says she doesn’t plan on telling them either. Not right now. 

“I’m not sure he ever will,” admits Bobby. “I messed up. I was so afraid to lose him that I shut him out.”

That’s not quite right, thinks Chimney. Well, it might be right for Bobby, but it’s not why Buck’s been so pissed at Bobby. Not just since the lawsuit either. Buck’s been angry with Bobby for a while. But it’s Lena, casually leaning against the railing like she couldn’t give two shits, who adds some much-needed clarity. 

“Look, I get that none of you really like me,” she says. “But you can’t leave it there. You’re his Captain. Being his friend or family or any of that other shit comes second. You have to be able to be his Captain first.”

“She’s not wrong, Cap,” says Chimney, because she’s not and because someone should say it. 

Before they can continue any more of the conversation though, the alarm goes off. By the time they get back from the 3-alarm fire, everyone’s exhausted, and future conversation is put off for another day.

* * *

Sometime later, Bobby digs through his desk and pulls out the letter he shoved away a few days ago, unable to deal with his grief at the time. He doesn’t know if Buck will ever forgive him enough to let him send it, but he needs to finish it. 

_...I will never get to know who my daughter could have become. I will never see who my son might have grown up to be. And then you came to the 118. And something in me found a second chance to be a father.  _

_ I failed. Again. I was so scared to lose you that I forgot to tell you I loved you. You deserved better. _

_ I’m sorry, Buck. I’m so sorry.  _

Bobby Nash.

Bobby pauses and looks over the letter he’s written. As apologies go, it’s probably terrible. He just wants Buck to know how much he loves him. How much it terrified him seeing another kid dying in front of him. That he just wanted to keep Buck safe, and if he couldn’t do that, he didn’t want to have to watch him get hurt.

Then he thinks about what Athena said to him. He thinks about what his crew has said, about what everyone seems to want to say but isn’t quite bold enough to go there. 

Bobby considers, rereads his letter of a surrogate father apologizing to his son. 

Next to the letter is his name badge for his uniform. “Captain Robert Nash” it reads. 

He really messed up.

Bobby picks up the phone and calls Frank, setting up a recurring therapy appointment, tells himself he won’t mess up this much again.

* * *

Eddie knows the rule. Buck issued it in his first letter to Christopher, just a very short note to Eddie. 

_ Eddie, _

_ I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t see why I would, you’ve made it clear you don’t want me around. If you don’t want me to write Christopher, I’ll accept it. I just didn’t want to disappoint him. Please don’t try to contact me. Maddie will be the go-between for the letters. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m so so sorry. _

_ Yours, _

_ Buck _

Eddie’s kept the note. He’s broken into tears each time he reads it, so pretty much every night, when he doesn’t have to keep a brave face anymore. When he doesn’t have to act like he’s moving on like the rest of them. Fuck them. How can any of them just move forward with life, as though Buck leaving didn’t rip his world in two? He hates every word in the letter. Every word that reminds him, over and over, of how rejected Buck must have felt. How unwanted. 

But Buck signed it “yours” and Eddie will cling to that with every fiber in his being. 

How can he not? He knows he played a heavy hand in driving Buck away. Now he can see his mistakes for what they were. But at the time? At the time he was scared, scared of losing Buck for good. That the next accident would be the fatal one. So he pushed Buck away from him, away from Christopher, kept him at a distance, and told himself it would hurt less. 

And then, five months after Buck left, they all received a letter from Buck. Eddie doesn’t know what anyone else’s says. No one shared the details, just that they’d received one. Eddie was just glad his letter came as he got home for his four days off. He’d been picking up overtime, but by the grace of God or the fates or something, he hadn’t taken any. Christopher was going to a special school retreat and Eddie was alone. 

It’s been two days since he read the letter for the first time. Two days of tears and panic and exhaustion. Two days to experience so much regret. He unfolds the papers in his hands and reads again. 

Eddie swipes at the tears in his eyes. He reaches for the paper and pen in front of him. He has no return address, doesn’t even know if Maddie will send the letter or if Buck will read it. But he sits and he writes his reply.

_ My Buck, _

_ You say you failed me, but the truth is that I failed you. I pulled away, I pulled Christopher away because I was so scared of losing you. Christopher’s nightmares weren’t of you leaving, but of you dying while saving him. I was terrified after the bomb. I was terrified after the blood clot. And then the tsunami came and I gave up. I told myself if I pushed you far enough away from us, we couldn’t be hurt when you left. And of course, you would leave eventually, I know that I’m not enough for someone, for anyone, and certainly not for someone as good and wonderful as you. So I pushed you away first, believing it would keep my heart safe. _

_ It didn’t. Instead of protecting my heart, I ended up unknowingly shattering it on the floor. If I’d just continued to trust you with it, maybe it would still be whole. Maybe you would still be here. You don’t just carry my heart, Buck. You’ve been carrying me and Christopher for so long.  _

_ I don’t know if I ever told you--I can’t have, otherwise, you would know how loved you are--about that day you introduced Carla to me. I thought, for a moment, you were trying to set me up. And it was so much. Abuela and Pepa were trying so hard, but they were exhausted. I was so very tired. Like an idiot, I’d assumed that Shannon failed because she didn’t try hard enough, that if you love someone enough, everything is easy. In those few months of being in LA, I had fast learned that sometimes love is making a choice to show up. (I can’t believe I forgot about that during those months you were still showing up for me and the rest of the 118).  _

_ I had told myself if I could just make it through training, everything would settle out. And then it didn’t. Everywhere I turned, someone else needed me. I was so close to giving up, to admit my parents were right, that I couldn’t do this on my own, and having to go back to El Paso. Despite knowing how much they take the joy out of my kid’s eyes, that’s the point I was at.  _

_ Then you came along. A brutal shift dealing with earthquake aftermath and without a thought, you drove me to get Christopher. Drove us home, made us dinner, and came back in the morning to make sure we were settled for the day. You brought Christopher to the station, not hoping it would be okay, but making sure of it. Organizing everything so all I had to do was trust in others. It was so kind, so kind. Yet all I could think was how long it would be before all of you decided I wasn’t good enough yet again. _

_ And then….Jesus Buck, then you made me come over and introduced me to Carla, and you saved our lives, Buck. You saved my life and you saved Christopher’s and...a burden?!?! That day you gave me fucking wings.  _

_ Christopher is the reason I wake up every morning and you are the reason that I smile when I do.  _

_ Then you kept nearly dying on me. And I let myself get so wrapped up in the idea of losing you, I didn’t realize until it was too late that I’d already pushed you away. _

_ Forgive me, Buck. Please forgive me.  _

_ If I may, I’ll borrow the eloquent words of your favorite writer to share my own thoughts.  _

_ “If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.” _

_ I have loved you since the day you loved Christopher as your own.  _

_ There’s a picture of us on either side of Christopher as he slides down the fire pole. It looks like a family. It’s the family I want.  _

_ I am in love with you, Evan Buckley. _

_ Come back to me. Come back to us.  _

_ Come home.  _

_ Yours. Always.  _

_ Eddie _

He gives Maddie the letter, says he understands when she tells him that Buck isn’t letting them reply yet. He tells Maddie that he put his heart on those pages, the way Buck deserves to hear it, and that he doesn’t want to second guess himself or doubt his heart in the future. So when Buck says yes, she should send the letter. Eddie plans on following it up with more the minute he knows he can.

In the meantime, time passes faster than they expect, life in Los Angeles keeping all of them busy. 

His favorite photo of the three of them, from that day all the way back when Christopher hung out at the fire station, stays in Eddie’s wallet, folded neatly around his favorite picture of Christopher.

One month later, the news reports a devastating tornado has ripped through Austin, Texas. And Eddie knows, with a bone-chilling certainty that he can’t begin to explain, that Buck is there. That Buck is hurt. 

Three phone calls and a rushed explanation later, Eddie is in the air.

* * *

In the six months that Buck’s in Austin, Maddie only breaks his requests three times. Once, in regards to Chimney.

Another, she breaks it without telling him, choosing to speak to Captain Strand. She doesn’t say much, because Buck’s demons are his own, just as she has hers, but she needs to know that her brother is in a safe space.

Captain Strand doesn’t say a thing about Buck, but he tells her some stories about himself, and about his son, and when the conversation is over, Maddie knows she can trust this man with her brother.

The last time she goes against Buck’s wishes is when Eddie hands her the letter. 

Maddie never tells Eddie that she sent it the very next day. She tucks it in another envelope, writes “ _ This is Eddie’s letter. I didn’t tell him I’m sending it and I don’t know what it says. I would never ask you to reply. But the man that handed it to me is a man who clearly still loves you so much that his heart remains broken. I can’t imagine a man like that would write anything to hurt you. I know you said you weren’t ready for replies, so if you don’t want to read it right away, I understand. Keep it safe until you are.” _ and sends it along with one of Christopher’s letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those concerned, Chimney is getting his letter/exchange with Buck. I PROMISE. I really tried to make it work in this chapter, but there are some very specific elements that I want to come from that conversation, and those will fit perfectly later on. I feel very strongly that it will be worth the wait. That said, hopefully, the new bits in this chapter that do feature Chimney help improve on the original version.


	6. Love in the Time of Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a medical professional, nor did I do much research. Please do not take anything medically related as remotely accurate. (If you are a medical professional and something in this is just so glaringly wrong it makes you weep, feel free to tell me.)  
> Eddie definitely has a moment in this where he channels one Yusuf al-Kaysani and I am NOT sorry.  
> There’s a good chunk of flashback in the middle and I think it’s clear what’s going on through it, but feel free to leave a comment if something’s too confusing.

Buck wakes up in the hospital slowly, his sense of smell coming back before anything else. Or at least it’s the strongest, what with that distinctive hospital scent hitting his nostrils. The sounds of machines beeping, of distant movement in the hall, and the air conditioner running low in the background meets his ears. There’s someone else breathing in the room.

A pressure on his hand…

Is someone touching it?

No, someone holding it.

That’s odd, he thinks, as he works at convincing his eyes to figure out how to open. Not that any of his team wouldn’t be at his bedside to keep him company, they absolutely would, but unless there were some insane complications to his routine appendectomy, they should still have several hours on their shift. 

And he remembers being very clear about not coming to the hospital until they were done. Too many people were hurt in the tornado for them to be down any more firefighters than necessary.

Buck finally manages to blink his eyes open. “Oh shit, they gave me the really good drugs,” he whispers hoarsely. 

Eddie’s sitting at his bedside, looking exhausted, and yep definitely holding Buck’s hand. He’s definitely had this dream before. To be fair, he’s had a lot of dreams about Eddie Diaz over the years: good, bad, and very inappropriate. He absolutely has not had dreams, fantasies, what have you that involve Eddie gasping his name, bursting into tears, and shaking uncontrollably.

“Eddie,” says Buck. “Eddie, it’s okay, I’m fine, it’s okay.”

Eddie looks at him, still visibly thrown. “Buck,” he says, and then his voice goes all wobbly.

“So did I get the really good drugs or are you actually here? Because frankly, if these are the good drugs, I would have preferred fewer clothes and a bigger bed, but I can work with this.”

“I’m really here,” answers Eddie, swiping at his eyes.

Buck takes a second with that. He knows Captain Strand was calling Maddie as per his request and while he wouldn’t put it past her to tell others that he was hurt, he would have expected her to ask him first. Also, how did Eddie get here so fast? Flights from LA aren’t too bad but the timeline doesn’t quite line up. “Did Maddie call you?” Buck asks, deciding one question at a time.

“Maddie?”

“My sister,” Buck frowns as Eddie stares blankly. “Maddie Buckley? Works 9-1-1 dispatch? Is dating Chimney?”

Eddie shakes his head a little like he’s trying to refocus. “I don’t...I haven’t talked to Maddie.”

“Then how are you here?” asks Buck.

“Oh god right, no of course I shouldn’t be here, you don’t want me here, I’ll just, um…”

“Eddie!” snaps Buck and immediately regrets it. Shit that hurt. “I want you here, I’m just confused as to how you are in my hospital room, in Austin, holding my hand, if my sister didn’t tell you about it.”

Eddie suddenly flushes, looking deeply embarrassed in a way that Buck finds delightfully familiar. “Ummmm…”

“Eddie. Did you already know I was in Austin?”

“No!” he says hurriedly, looking even more flustered.

Buck just stares. He can break Eddie. It’s always been shockingly easy to do, the man has no poker face. Not that Buck’s is any better. 

“I was watching the news,” Eddie finally admits, “and it said there was a tornado in Austin. I don’t even know how to explain it, Buck, it was like I just knew, instantly, that you were here. So I called Carla and Abuela to watch Christopher and I told Cap I had to go to Texas for a family emergency and then I was on a plane.”

“How did you know what hospital?”

“I uh, landed and realized I flew halfway across the country on a feeling.”

Buck starts laughing in spite of himself. “Wait, you came to Austin without confirming I was actually here?”

Eddie finally cracks a smile. “Yeah. So I looked up local hospitals and I called St. David’s first and asked about you and they said you were just going into surgery. I don’t know,” he says, shrugging in excuse. “I wasn’t really thinking about anything but getting to you.”

“Kiss me,” demands Buck, breathless in wonder at Eddie’s words.

Eddie stares at him.

“Kiss me, Eddie Diaz,” he repeats. “You beautiful romantic asshole. Kiss me now.” He’s not quite strong enough to pull Eddie to him, but he tangles his hand in Eddie’s shirt and pulls, enough that Eddie gets with the program and surges up to meet Buck, faces mere centimeters apart. And now, oh now Buck can see him. Can see the way the light shimmers against the tears still sitting in the corner of Eddie’s eyes. He sees the way Eddie’s lip quivers and feels his hand tighten against Buck’s cheek. There's magic at this moment that will last long after the moment ends. “Kiss me,” whispers Buck again. 

Eddie’s lips are rough, hours in a plane and a hospital drying them out. He tastes like a mix of cheap coffee and spearmint and the faintest hint of peanuts. He’s shaky against Buck’s touch and the sounds of hospital machines beep around them and nothing, nothing about it is the ideal scenario for a first kiss.

It’s perfect.

* * *

When they separate eventually, because breathing is still a necessity, as disappointing as that fact is, Eddie’s eyes shine a little brighter. He sits back in the chair, though he takes Buck’s hand back in his, interlacing their fingers this time. 

“Buck,” he says hesitantly. “I need to tell you something.”

“I know,” interrupts Buck. “Maddie sent me your letter.”

Eddie freezes. “You got my letter. Um, uh...when...when did you get it?”

“About three days after you gave it to her,” answers Buck. He tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand. This is definitely not one of the many ways he’s imagined this conversation going, but he has imagined this conversation. More importantly, he’s practiced it. Over and over and over again. “I realize you are probably reacting to that in a lot of different ways, but I would be so grateful if you would give me this one chance to explain.” He can recognize every emotion running across Eddie’s face as though the last year never happened and they’re as close as ever. It’s beautiful.

“Please Eddie,” he pleads.

“Okay,” allows Eddie. 

So Buck explains. “When I sent those letters, I didn’t really want to do it. My therapist thought it would be good for me--and she was right, as usual, but in the moment, I was still pretty angry. I wanted the letters to be closure in a sense, a way for me to close the door on a chapter in my life.” Buck smiles ruefully as he reflects. “Of course, as I should have known, my therapist was a little wiser than me in that regard. I intended to send most of them out without allowing a reply, to spill my emotions without risking being hurt by the response. And then Maddie sent me yours.”

He pauses, rubs his thumb against Eddie’s knuckles. 

“You didn’t answer,” says Eddie, his voice hoarse.

“I was really, really, angry at first,” answers Buck. “I actually gave my phone to my captain to make sure I couldn’t respond to you and say something I shouldn’t. Then I went to my therapy appointment and I was still angry. But I also realized that I didn’t want to close the doors after all. It was like I was knocking at so many, wishing something would make a noise, would indicate there was still a connection. And there was your letter, swinging the door wide open and telling me to come home.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t ready,” says Buck honestly. “But I wanted to be. So I decided to work on it. To work on me and work towards a goal that wasn’t about a new life, but about healing my old one.” There’s so much he needs to say to Eddie, so much they need to talk about, but he also wants to make the look on Eddie’s face disappear.

“I love you so much, Eddie Diaz. You asked me to come home and I’ve spent the last several months drawing a map so I could.”

“You were going to come home? To LA?”

Buck smiles. “I was going to come home to you.”

“Oh.  _ Oh _ ,” says Eddie in sudden clarity. “I love you, Evan Buckley.”

If Buck was happy before, now he feels like flying. “Now that’s what I call a good drug.”

Eddie pales. “Drugs. Hospital. Shit, fuck, we’re in the hospital. You were in a tornado, are you okay? What happened?! They didn’t actually tell me anything other than you were in surgery, how hurt are you? Oh shit, should I be squeezing your hand like this? Shit, um,”

“Eddie, Eddie,” says Buck, as reassuring as he can, feeling the need to stop Eddie before he ends up in an anxiety attack. “I’m okay, I promise. It was a tough rescue and we knew there was a possibility of injury going in.”

Eddie’s face does some twisted thing of pissed off and terrified at once. “You went into a tornado on purpose?!”

“What? No! I get stuck in disasters, I don’t go looking for them, come on.”

“But you just said…”

“Okay, first off, let me just stop you right there because we seem to be operating on different wavelengths. We do not go out in a tornado. As my senior teammate told us, we save ourselves first so we can save others later. We spent the tornado in the station’s storm shelter.” Buck runs his good hand along Eddie’s arm, trying to be as soothing as possible. Difficult when he’s stuck in a hospital bed, but he’s gonna do his damn best. “The broken arm came from a later rescue of several kids. Captain Strand and the rest of us assessed the situation. We had three options. To get some oxygen lines to the kids and wait until heavy rescue showed up, to go in from the south side and have an easier time getting to the kids but the risk of instability meant a high probability of the debris collapsing on whoever went in and still waiting on heavy rescue, but with a higher risk of death, or coming in on the northwest corner, which could provide a clean rescue of the kids and an almost guarantee that whoever went in would get out, but possibly end up with a broken bone on the exiting side of their body.”

Eddie listens quietly until Buck finishes. “Why didn’t you just wait if that was an option?”

“The kids were panicking,” answers Buck. “It was causing the debris to shift and putting them at higher risk.”

“I’m a little surprised you were willing to be away from work.”

Buck frowns. “You think I would have let kids get hurt to keep my shifts?” He thought Eddie knew him better than that, what the actual fuck?

“No, no, I know you wouldn’t do that, geez Buck,” says Eddie in a hurry. “I meant that I’m surprised you opted for the plan that all but guaranteed you’d get hurt. I didn’t think you’d want to be out of commission for any longer than you have to be.”

“Oh.” Buck shrugs, insofar as he can in a hospital bed. “Growth?” he offers. “Besides, it was just a broken arm.”

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to respond as the night nurse comes in and checks Buck’s charts, updating the information and giving Buck a fresh dose of his medications. He uses the bathroom while Buck answers the nurse’s questions, coming back as the chart is getting put away and the nurse exits the room.

Buck watches as Eddie sits back down, then jumps back up. “Wait!”

“What?” He has no idea what popped into Eddie’s head just now.

“You’re in the hospital.”

“Yeeeesss...I um, I know I can be a little clueless sometimes but I didn’t miss that I’m in the hospital.”

“Why are you in the hospital for a week with a broken arm?” demands Eddie. “That’s an outpatient procedure.”

“Oh!” laughs Buck, realizing. “I told them when I came in that I also was having stomach cramps, thought maybe dinner was too spicy but turns out my appendix was inflamed, so they took that out too. And after I told the doctor about my history with blood clots, she thought it was best that I stay under observation a little bit longer, just to make sure I’m safe.”

Eddie doesn’t look assuaged. “Are you sure? You’re really okay? Buck, I can’t...I mean, I just…”

“Hey, hey, Eddie, look at me. I am okay,” says Buck firmly. “I was honest and forthright with my doctors. Captain Strand communicated any details I might have missed from the rescue. I am going to be just fine.”

“Buck,” whispers Eddie, his voice shaking.

“I’m fine,” Buck repeats, keeping his tone low and soothing. “I promise. But these pain meds are kicking up pretty strong right now, so I’m gonna need you to kiss me goodnight now.”

Eddie’s got some tears in his eyes, but he does as asked, leans in, and kisses Buck ever so gently. “Sweet dreams, Buck,” he says.

Buck drifts to sleep with the warmth of Eddie’s hand wrapped tight around his.

* * *

Buck stays at the hospital for a couple more days while the doctors keep an eye on him, then he gets to leave and finish recovering at home for several weeks. Eddie’s here through the end of the week, having flown out at the start of a rotation, so since he was already going to miss his shifts, he’s staying through his weekend too. 

He decides not to ask Eddie to lie outright, seeing as the accident plus Eddie’s arrival in Austin has potentially accelerated some of his plans, but he does ask if Eddie can try to refrain from mentioning anything to Bobby. At least until Buck figures out his next steps. Technically, Buck would prefer that this stay quiet from Hen and Chimney, from Lena and the rest of the tsunami survivor’s group, basically from anyone that isn’t Eddie or Maddie. The latter because she’s arriving in a few days and will get to be a part of helping Buck figure out the future. 

But Buck also knows that if the situation was reversed, it’d be impossible for him to pretend like his world wasn’t right side up again. 

Hen’s going to see through Eddie in a heartbeat.

And well, Buck’s not even going to attempt to deny how much he likes the idea that Eddie’s entire personality lights up when all is right between them. 

They make the decision together about how to tell Christopher, with Eddie calling Abuela and talking to her first (while Buck texts Carla an update), then bringing Christopher to the chat. 

“Hey buddy,” says Eddie when his son appears in the video. “How was school?” He’s up against a blank space of wall at Buck’s, not wanting to give anything away too fast. He’s not sure how well Chris knows Buck’s apartment through their chats. 

“Good, Dad,” replies Christopher. “Are Nana and Pops okay?” 

“Actually, that’s what I was calling about. Nana and Pops are fine, I came to see someone else who was in the hospital.” Eddie doesn’t want Christopher to overthink it, so as soon as he finishes the words, he turns the phone to show Buck sitting a few inches away from him.

“BUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!” screams Christopher so loud that Eddie nearly drops the phone in his surprise. 

Buck snorts with laughter, then cringes a little at the movement. “How’s my best guy?”

Christopher immediately launches into a detailed discussion of his day, while Buck slides his way closer to Eddie as they talk. Eventually, Abuela announces that dinner is ready--and reminds Christopher that he hasn’t started on his homework. 

“Hey Buck?” asks Chris, a little quieter before he hangs up.

“Yeah?” 

“Does this mean you’re coming home?”

Buck takes a breath because he hasn’t worked through everything and he’s got a lot of ducks to get in a row. But at the same time, he’s been moving in this direction for a while now. And as Marlene is so fond of pointing out, sometimes life lets you build your own bridge to move forward. Sometimes it sends a bolt of lightning into a tree, knocking it over, and creating a bridge in an instant. This feels like a lightning moment. “Yes,” he says in answer to Christopher. “It means I’m coming home.”

* * *

Later, Buck’s leaning against Eddie as something plans on the TV. There might have been an attempt to actually watch something once, but it soon just became about the quietness of the moment for both of them. The familiarity of all the nights on Eddie’s couch, watching movies with Christopher, comes sweeping back to Buck in an instant. 

This time though, he’s not sitting on one side of the couch, catching Eddie’s eye with inside jokes and amusing yet fond looks at Christopher, who never made it past the first half of a movie. He gets to rest against Eddie’s side. 

Eddie’s been running gentle fingers through Buck’s curls for the last hour, murmuring soft words from time to time. 

Eventually, Eddie’s touch seems to move with more purpose. And Buck has eyes, he can see pretty clearly that Eddie’s as turned on as he is. But when he shifts his good hand across Eddie’s lap, Eddie flinches.

Buck sits up straight. “Sorry. I uh...I’ll just go.” He thought they were on the same page after the last few days, but maybe…

“No, Buck, wait!” calls out Eddie, cutting off his thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to misinterpret,” Buck insists.

“You didn’t misinterpret shit,” says Eddie. He runs a hand through his own hair and sighs. 

Buck moves to walk away again. Let Eddie have some space. Reassess all of……..this.

“Buck,” says Eddie, voice firm. “You promised we’d talk our shit out from now on, not make assumptions. Please don’t run away from me.”

He did promise that. So he sits, a little further away, but he sits. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” declares Eddie. “You terrify me.”

Buck stares.

“I want you so badly it makes me physically ache. It’s like you’re a magnet and my entire being gravitates to you. It’s like I’m the moon and I exist for Christopher, but I shine because I reflect your light. Buck, I want to know you, inside and out, and I want to let you take me apart, and I’m so desperately scared that if you do and I’m not enough, I’ll never be able to put myself back together again.”

Buck’s eyes fill with tears. He sinks to his knees in front of Eddie. “How could you not know that you’re all I want? That you’re everything I need?”

“What if you come home and you and Bobby can’t fix things?” asks Eddie. “What if the pain is too much, the memories too harsh, and you decide to leave again?”

Oh, realizes Buck. Eddie thinks Buck made this decision for him. That’s a lot of pressure for one man to carry, though Buck knows Eddie tends to carry more weight than he should. “I’m not going to leave,” he starts. 

“How do you know?” interrupts Eddie. 

“Because I’m not coming home just for you,” insists Buck. “Not just for you. I’m coming home for my sister. For the brother I have in Chimney and the friends that I have in Hen and Lena and Sal. For the mentor that I have in Captain Cooper. I’m coming home for Christopher. For Carla and Pepa and Abuela and all the cousins.” 

He lifts a gentle hand and wipes a tear from Eddie’s cheek. “I’m doing this for me because I choose this. And Marlene and I have worked really hard to make sure that no one person is going to change that for me.” Buck knows he’s probably staring a little too intensely, but he needs Eddie to hear this. “If you told me this minute that Bobby and I would never repair our relationship and I would never work at the 118 again, I would still come home.”

Eddie leans in and kisses him, so carefully, so slowly, and utterly desperate at the same time. 

When they finally pull away, breathless and overwhelmed, Buck stretches and makes a face at his sore muscles. 

“Switch places with me,” says Eddie. 

“What?”

“Switch,” he demands, shifting off the couch. 

Buck moves up to sit again, admittedly much more comfortably than his spot on the floor. A few seconds later, Eddie’s kneeling between his legs, hands-on Buck’s thighs. “Oh,” breathes Buck. “Are you sure?”

Eddie’s eyes are clear, his gaze focused as he looks up at Buck. “Let me take you apart,” he whispers. “We can put each other back together in the end.”

* * *

“Tell her thank you,” says Eddie, as Buck prepares to go to his therapy session.

“Thank you?”   
“For helping you realize you wanted to come home. For helping you realize you still have a family that loves you.”

“Oh. Actually, you can thank Chimney for that last part.”

“Seriously?” asks Eddie. 

“Yeah,” laughs Buck. “I didn’t realize it at first, not until a few sessions with Marlene had happened, but it started about 2 days after I got your letter.”

* * *

**_Flashbacks Begin_ **

“Good afternoon, Buck,” says Marlene as he slips in a few minutes early to his therapy appointment. 

He pours himself a glass of water and settles in. “Could today, um, could today be one of those days where I just kind of talk out loud for a while until either my brain connects the right dots or you find the pattern?” 

It’s a bit of a thing that they’ve worked out over the last few months. Buck’s genuinely been wanting to talk, to get help and figure out how to deal with things in his life in a healthier manner. He’s not always able to get the words or get to that point of emotional vulnerability without help, but he’s never been approaching this work with hostility. He wants to be here. 

But sometimes, he has the words, he just has so many words that they don’t quite connect together until he can talk it out. The first time he told Maddie that she about died laughing, then explained that every time she told him about a problem and then got frustrated when he instantly offered a solution, that’s why. Sometimes you just gotta talk things out. 

Marlene will listen when he does this, making notes and occasionally interjecting with a thought or question if she thinks it will help direct his thoughts. If he spirals, she usually pauses his thought process to get them back on track. She motions at him to go ahead and he does. He tells her about this Saturday when he was supposed to face-time with Maddie.

* * *

Buck calls Maddie at their usual time. He’s a little bit nervous and a little bit excited. Chimney wrote a nice letter, apologizing for not reading the room very well when it came to Buck’s emotional state. He said a lot about not wanting to get in the way of Buck and Maddie’s relationship as siblings. Buck’s happy about that. It did feel like he couldn’t turn to his sister in a lot of ways. Not because she wouldn’t be supportive, but because he didn’t want her to choose between her brother or her boyfriend. 

So he’s nervous now, to bring up some of what Chimney said. But Buck also feels like that door to friendship is open, just as the one with Hen was. He thinks he’s ready to step through.

Maddie answers in a rushed voice like she’s preoccupied. “Buck! Um…”

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s fine, I just completely forgot to text you,” she answers. There’s movement in the background of the video and Buck sees Chimney getting up from the couch. “Howie just had a really rough shift and I meant to reschedule with you. I spaced it.”

“Oh,” says Buck, trying not to come across as too disappointed. It’s hard not to though, not when he’s still trying to convince himself that he is a priority in people’s lives, that he’s not alone. He’s not going to admit that though. “It’s no big deal. We’ll just miss this week. I’ll catch you next week or whenever you’ve got time.”

“Buck,” protests Maddie. 

Chimney’s voice comes through like he’s nearby but trying to respect Buck’s request for distance and not come fully in the frame. “I’ll just go,” he says. “This is your time with Buck, I can go home.”

“I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“No, no,” he insists. “This is more important.”

“Why don’t you go pick us up some dinner?” Maddie suggests. “That’ll give Buck and I a chance to talk and to figure out a time to reschedule this weekend.”

“Hey no,” says Chimney. “Really Maddie, it’s okay. I told Buck I wasn’t going to get in between the two of you and this is your time. I need to step away and let Buck know he’s important. I don’t want you to think the words in my letter were just excuses, Buck. I didn’t mean to monopolize your time.”

“Thanks, Chimney,” says Buck quietly, appreciative of the words and the actions. 

Maddie, on the other hand, is definitely not appreciative. “Hold on a second. The two of you do not get to decide my priorities for me.”

“I…” stammers Buck and Chimney at the same time.

“You were,” snaps Maddie. “Now, Chimney, go pick up food. I want Greek, you get whatever. Buck and I are going to have a conversation.”

Buck can feel his posture stiffen at those words. Maddie waits until the door is shut behind Chimney and a few seconds have passed for him to get down the sidewalk. 

“Maddie,” starts Buck, wanting to explain and apologize and maybe beg his sister not to get too mad. He doesn’t want to lose their conversations.

Maddie holds up a free hand and stops him. “My turn. Because if I let you, I suspect you’ll start spiraling, and that’s not what I want. You will always be one of my top priorities, Evan Buckley,” she says firmly. “You’re my brother and one of my best friends and I love you. I always want to know what’s going on with you. But you don’t always get to be my number one. And you don’t get to decide when you are the most important. You don’t get to decide where you fall on my list at all.”

“No, you’re right, Maddie, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she replies. “I should have texted sooner and let you know about the change of situation so you weren’t caught off guard. But if we’re going to work through this last year, we have to be able to change things on a whim sometimes. And I need to know that you’ll tell me how you feel, even as you understand that sometimes, Chimney might be that top priority instead.”

Buck smiles. “You must care about him a lot to say that.”

“I do,” Maddie gushes, adding a list of things she loves before she claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck,” she whispers.

“Figure out you’re in love with him?”

Maddie leans back in her chair. “Oh my god. I hadn’t really put it together until I was saying all those things.” She’s frozen for a long minute. Buck wants to say something, but he can see she’s processing. “Oh, I really am,” she says finally.

Buck hears the faint knock and Chimney’s voice asking if he should wait outside. “Hey, Mads?”

“Yeah, Evan?”

“I’m gonna go, but do you think you could tell Chimney to give me a call tomorrow?”

Maddie beams. “Really?!”

Buck nods. “Yeah, I think so. Just um, text me his number again so I unblock the right one.”

They make their goodbyes as Chimney brings in the food and makes noise in the kitchen; Buck hangs up feeling hopeful and uncertain for what tomorrow will bring.

* * *

Tomorrow’s conversation ends up being easier than Buck could have ever expected.

They have a few awkward stops and starts, with Chimney starting to tell Buck about things he’s missed and Buck cutting him off, saying he doesn’t want to know about that stuff, at least not yet. 

But eventually, they find some common ground. Buck admits he’s been talking to Hen, which lets Chimney feel like he has more to talk about. 

They talk about the teasing, about Chimney knowing now that it hurt Buck. 

Buck listens when Chimney asks Buck to talk to him, saying he doesn’t always know. 

He knows that Chimney’s right, (also because Marlene and Judd say the same thing, though Marlene’s nicer about it), that he has to say something too, because a lot of the time, he’s fine with the banter. It’s a staple of the firehouse, and a part of who Chimney is, and Buck doesn’t want it to vanish. 

So they talk and they work at a balance. 

And yet, in the end, Buck hangs up with more unease. Not, this time, because of Chimney. But because now, there’s really only Bobby and Eddie that he’s not talking to. So much has started healing. It’s reassuring and terrifying all at once

He has so much to talk to Marlene about. He might not stop talking for the entire session.

* * *

“...and I’m pissed,” says Buck, continuing his spilling of words to Marlene, this time about the letter from Eddie. He’s had these word vomit sessions a lot lately, ever since the letters. Marlene seems, not amused exactly, but expectant, like she’s been waiting on this outpouring of emotion.. “I’m pissed because how dare he say that after how he treated me and then I’m sad because clearly, I was so wrapped up in me that I missed all of it. I’m ecstatic, he loves me, and overwhelmed because oh my god, Eddie loves me. And this is good, it’s so so good, but if he loves me, if he’s always loved me, why did he work so hard to push me away?”

Marlene’s quiet for several moments. She looks at her notes and she ponders Buck for a while. “Do you want to stay angry?” she asks finally. “You can. It’s not an invalid response by any means. You were hurt, deeply, and it hasn’t been that long in the grand scheme of things.”

“Or?” asks Buck, because he also pays attention and he knows Marlene isn’t going to leave it there.

“There are two rather glaring truths that I see before me,” she says. “You are rightfully angry but you also feel somewhat guilty about holding onto that, which in turn is making you more frustrated. And you also very much want to let Eddie love you, but you’re scared of being hurt again.”   
“I’m terrified,” admits Buck.

“Which wolf will win?” asks Marlene.

They leave it at that until the next session.

* * *

“How do I know that Eddie loves me?” Buck blurts out as soon as Chimney answers his phone.

“Hi Buck,” says Chimney pointedly. “So nice to hear from you. How are you? How’s Austin?”

“Sorry, sorry. Hi, Chimney. How’s life?”

“It’s fine. What’s going on, Buck?”

“Maddie sent me Eddie’s letter,” Buck answers. “And I couldn’t just not read it, so I opened it, and he said a lot of really beautiful things, and he said he loved me and Marlene and I have been talking about it a lot, but how do I know?”

“On the one hand,” replies Chimney, “I don’t think you ever completely know. But when we’re talking about Eddie Diaz, I promise you, that man loves you like nobody’s business.”

Buck hesitates. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“You and Eddie?”

“That. LA. Going back to the 118. All of it.”

“You know, Buck, you don’t have to come back to the 118. Hear me out!” He says in a rush, which is good because Buck’s more than a little tempted to hang up the phone right now.

“I don’t mean we don’t want you back,” insists Chimney. “I mean that it’s okay for you to decide that you want to come back to a part of your old life and not to other parts of it. Don’t try and force yourself into a situation you’re not ready for.”

That’s a fair assessment, especially because Buck’s not sure, and sometimes it feels like he has to be.

Chimney continues. “You have friends and family here that aren’t going away based on where you work. Give yourself permission to change Buck.”

They talk for a few more minutes, Buck feeling a lot better about the whole thing. 

He brings up the call to Marlene at their next session. Tells her that he knows what he wants. That he wants to figure out how to go home, that he wants to make a family with Eddie and Christopher and Maddie and all of the other people that love him. He tells her that he wants to be okay if he can’t go back to the 118, if parts of his life have to look different. 

And so when he sees Marlene again, he’s chosen a wolf, he’s chosen his path. Buck sets a new goal, this time one that focuses on going home, even if home doesn’t look the same.

**_End Flashbacks_ **

* * *

Eddie’s last night comes all too quickly, even if the promise of him returning to drive with Buck back to Los Angeles eases the pain. 

They haven’t been able to do too much since he’s still in recovery from his surgery--Buck’s doctor laughed out loud when Buck asked if really, really, slow sex could count as gentle exercise and then told him absolutely not--so tonight’s been less about need and more about comfort.

Now Eddie’s asleep, his breathing soft and even next to Buck, and Buck can’t help but lie awake. 

He feels at peace; he feels restful. 

He’s felt this way for a little while, here in Austin. But there was always this lingering worry, this fear that when he finally let his old life back in, really in, that the anxiety would rear its ugly head. That ugly little voice is still there sometimes. But now, he can hear Marlene’s voice arguing back. He can hear Hen and Lena and Chimney yelling at the voice. He can hear Eddie ignoring it completely, just talking to Buck. 

These are voices of love and they are drowning the fear, instead of his fear overpowering him.

* * *

Maddie arrives two weeks after Eddie leaves. She’d offered to come sooner, but Buck reassured her that he was fine. He doesn’t tell her that he plans on making her help him pack, wanting to give her that news in person. 

She hugs him pretty much every thirty seconds and he can’t even pretend not to be thrilled about every single one. Face-time seemed like enough until now, when he’s had a taste of being in the physical presence of the people he loves, and now he almost can’t believe he went so long without being in the same room as his sister.

They’re getting ready to eat dinner at the end of her first full day in town, with Maddie unloading food from the carryout bags. 

“I have to admit,” starts Maddie. “I’m a little taken aback by this version of my brother.”

“This version?”

“This Buck who’s so open with his feelings. It’s nice,” she adds hurriedly like he might second guess her intent. “Really nice.”

Buck shrugs. “Therapy?”

Maddie smiles. “It’s more than that though.”

“I think Captain Strand has a lot to do with it,” admits Buck. “He’s pretty big on discussions and talking things out. And he hates the idea that to be a man you have to suck it up and hide your emotions. ‘Real men are open and honest and vulnerable.’ is what he always says.” Buck passes her a set of silverware and a plate to dish up the bbq he’d picked up for dinner. “You gotta be willing to voice your fears and risk being misunderstood, risk being temporarily hurt, in order to work past it and grow stronger. But I know it’ll be harder in LA,” he continues. 

“You’ve been talking to people again though…”

Buck nods. “Almost everyone.”

“Just not Bobby?” She doesn’t ask it with judgment, just like she’s confirming the information.

“And Athena.”

“I guess I didn’t realize you were that upset with her too.”

“I’m not. It’s just…” Buck pauses while he finds the right words to explain. “She was Bobby adjacent you know? And for a while, I felt like I kept disappointing her too. And then, I thought about writing her when I sent out the other letters, but you remember how I sent Chimney’s before the others?”

Maddie carries her full plate over to the dining table and nods. “I do.”

“I realized that if I wrote Athena, I couldn’t expect her to keep that from Bobby. And I didn’t want him to have any sort of peace.” There’s more than a touch of vitriol in Buck’s tone. He’s still not sure he’s ready to forgive Bobby. Still not sure if there’s anything to salvage there. 

Maddie gives him a long look like she’s gauging all possible responses to that. Then she stops, fork froze in midair. “Wait.”

Buck raises an eyebrow in question.

“You said it’ll be harder in LA. You’re coming home?!?”

“Well I mean, I was always hoping to come back eventually. And Marlene and I did start talking about what that process would look like.”

Maddie deflates in front of him. “Oh,” she says quietly. “So not for a while then.”

Buck wants to tease, but he can’t bring himself to do it. “Mads, the man I’ve been in love with for nearly two years that I thought I could never have just had some sort of psychic connection that made him realize I was here in Austin, and in the hospital, and he flew his ass down here to tell me he loves me. I’m going back as soon as I get my affairs in order. Besides,” he teases. “If the sex is this good now, I gotta know what it’s like without a broken arm.”

“Gross,” Maddie teases back, but she pulls him in close for a hug at the same time. Then she shoves him away. “Did you tell me to come to see you this week so you didn’t have to pack everything by yourself? Buck!”

He grins sheepishly and finds himself enduring another hug and a faceful of Maddie’s hair, and her exacting promises of baked goods in exchange for her help. Totally worth it.

* * *

“Is it really so wrong to find my identity in my work?” asks Buck in his final in-person session with Marlene. They’ll continue to meet through video chat once he’s back in LA. She’s going to try and get him set up with someone there, but while he works that out, it seems like the smart choice to stay active with therapy in the middle of the likely turmoil.

“Wrong?” repeats Marlene, not really asking the question. “No, Buck, I wouldn’t call it wrong at all. Many people find a sense of self in their career and you’ve chosen one that allows for that more than most. But I would call it limiting.”

“How is it limiting to want to help others, to save people who can’t save themselves? People who need someone else to rescue them?” asks Buck.

Marlene’s tone is so carefully kind, in that way she has when she knows all the mess of thoughts and memories and emotions behind the surface of a question, that Buck finds himself fighting back tears. 

“There is nothing limiting about wanting to look out for others,” she says softly. “But if you only allow yourself the chance to do that within the role of a firefighter, you will find yourself lost again.”

“It’s the only way I know,” Buck replies. It’s the only moment when he feels that he’s done some good in the world. When he’s out on a call, saving a life.

“Now that is simply untrue,” says Marlene, her voice firmer now. “You saved your sister.”

“She saved herself,” interrupts Buck. “I told you about how she fought back her husband and killed him in self-defense.”

Marlene nods. “You did. You also told me about how you welcomed her into your life, helped her find a job that fit what seems to be a shared need to help others, how you never made an issue of her finding a connection with your coworker. Maddie absolutely saved herself that day, but she did so because you and others helped her realize she was both capable and deserving.”

Buck starts to shake his head. He can’t have done that much, not really.

“Or what about Eddie?” continues Marlene, ignoring his disagreement for a moment. “And Christopher? A broken family that needed to be believed in, to be allowed to stand on their own two feet?”

“Eddie did that,” says Buck, fiercely proud of how much Eddie’s accomplished, even if there’s still hurt there that has to be worked through.

“You never doubted him. Never said he couldn’t do it on his own, in fact, as you’ve told me through our sessions, it seems very clear that you have always believed him to be fully capable.”

“Of course he is.”

Marlene smiles. “That kind of faith in others does just as much to save a life as a daring rescue in a burning building.”

Buck pauses to think about it for a minute. “Maybe...maybe you’re right. But I don’t know when I’m doing it, it’s not the same as being on a call.”

“My suggestion is that you find more opportunities,” says Marlene. “When you return to Los Angeles, find a place or two to volunteer. You want to be a man who saves people and you are, that isn’t restricted by the uniform. Wanting to save others is an admirable thing and worthy of your identity, we’re just going to work on broadening the scope of it.”

* * *

It’s only a few short days after his conversation with Marlene that Buck is packing the last of his things and getting ready to go back to LA with Eddie.

Captain Strand threw an impressive goodbye party--and is sending Buck home with more skincare products than he can begin to know what to do with--for him that the whole station house was a part of. 

He’s going to miss these people, something fierce, but he’ll stay in touch, and he’ll visit down the road. 

Just as they get out of the city traffic, Christopher ends up calling Eddie to talk about ideas for his upcoming science project. Buck’s thankful for the quiet, for the time to reflect on what coming home is going to look like. 

He has a few more weeks before his cast comes off, followed by a couple of weeks of strength training. He’s doing his best to stay in shape, and this is a relatively minor injury, but he still has to get back on track to be on active duty. 

The district’s battalion chief has been in contact, so there are some tentative plans on what coming back will look like. 

In the meantime, Maddie’s offered up her apartment when he comes back. Apparently, she and Chimney have been navigating their way around the idea of moving in together and they’ve decided to use his return as a bit of a trial run. If it works, she’ll give notice on her apartment. If they decide they need a little more time before they--or she--feel ready for that stage, she can come back to it once he finds a place.

Eddie's offered to let Buck stay with him.

Well. that’s overstating it a bit. More like Eddie’s face had lit up for a brief second at the realization that Buck would need a home, he’d clearly almost asked Buck, then ran away with the excuse to get coffee. 

_ “So that happened,” Maddie had said. _

_ Buck snickered. “He thinks he’s going to get away with it too.” _

_ “He’s not?” _

_ “Nah,” Buck’d replied, ignoring the touch of incredulity in Maddie’s tone. “Eddie’s still thinking I’m the Buck that left all those months ago. He’s not used to well-adjusted Evan Buckley who goes to therapy twice a week and communicates his needs.” _

_ Maddie kinda beamed with pride and Buck had blushed under the unspoken praise.  _

_ The end result was that Maddie had vacated the apartment under the pretense of going on a walk, Eddie had asked, Buck said no, then they talked about it. _

_ “Oh. Yeah, I mean, yeah, no, obviously it’s way too soon to be offering that,” said Eddie. “I shouldn’t have overstepped.” _

_ “Eddie,” Buck’d said, stopping Eddie’s flustered embarrassment as fast as he could. “I want to say yes. I appreciate the offer so much.” _

_ “But you’re saying no.” _

_ “I am. Because...” Buck had sighed and tried to find the right words. “We hit the ground running these last several weeks. And I’m so glad about that. I don’t want to slow down to something where we act like we have to pretend we just met and are dating from scratch. I want to be able to tell you I love you whenever I want. But I think we also need to take a tiny beat. Let me get home. Assimilate with my friends again. Get Christopher used to the idea. This has been a really nice bubble of us for the last few weeks but now the rest of the world comes in and when I move in, I want it to be forever.” _

_ Eddie had squeezed his good hand and kissed his cheek and said okay and that he hoped Buck would still stay over some nights and he’d looked positively ecstatic over Buck’s slip of the tongue in saying “when he moves in” versus “if he moves in.” _

Now though, as Eddie switches to speakerphone so Buck can talk to Christopher as well, he just reaches over and takes Eddie’s hand. 

He made it through a tsunami and a tornado and now he’s about to walk into another storm. But this time, he has anchors to hold him steady against the wind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last long chapter, the rest will be shorter as Buck refinds his place in LA. For those who remember the older version, you can see that this has a lot more going on that it did before. I always wanted this chapter to go this way, in that Buck had reached a point of reconciliation with some, but especially with Eddie. It changed a bit along the way, with me realizing that I wanted Buck to have reconciled with everyone except Bobby. And I wanted it to end with Buck leaving Austin. I rushed it before, because I wanted to provide content quicker. But that didn’t work, because the story felt incomplete. Now you have this part of the story as it was meant to be told.  
> I hope you like it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is now written in full (told myself it had to be to repost) and I’ll update at least a chapter a day just to give myself time to proofread first. Also that chapter count is FIRM. This was how I originally intended to tell the story.


End file.
